Unfamiliar Territory
by AgentMandark
Summary: Everyone knew Dumbledore was a little loopy, but no one expected him to create a "ghost hunting" class, much less one that was run by some wacky American. Having never experienced muggle ghosts, Hogwarts is in for a rude awakening this year…
1. An Awkward Entrance

**Note: In Harry Potter: Takes place during _Order of the Phoenix_. In Danny Phantom: Slight AU in that Danny's older, and all the events (with the exception of the Disasteroid) have already occurred. **

**Disclaimer: I'm a broke college student. I own nothing. **

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><p><em><strong>Chapter One: An Awkward Entrance<strong>_

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><p>"He's nuts," Ron muttered, staring angrily at his mashed potatoes. "Completely, utterly nuts."<p>

The rest of the Great Hall seemed to share the redhead's sentiment, considering the harsh, angry whispers that raked across all four houses. A new, fifth-year-mandatory class had been added by Dumbledore just a few weeks before the start of Hogwarts term, throwing off both students and professors alike.

What was even odder was the subject it was involved in.

Rolling his eyes, Ron mocked, "I mean, really, who in their bloody right mind makes a _ghost hunting _course? Ghosts can't even touch us!" To emphasize his point, he discreetly tossed a small pea at Nearly-Headless-Nick a couple seats over, the pea harmlessly passing through. Nick didn't even look up as he continued talking to a couple of Gryffindor first-years about his dream to be one of the horsemen.

Shaking his head sadly, Ron looked forlornly into eyes of his two best friends and said, "Guys, I think Dumbledore's officially off his rocker."

Harry Potter, having had a few issues with Dumbledore himself with the events that had occurred over the summer, glanced at the old man in question, wondering just what, exactly, he could be planning. If past experience was anything to go by, Dumbledore usually had a reason and motive for the things he did, regardless of how odd or sporadic they may seem to an outsider.

He redirected his glance to Hermione Granger. Seeming to pick up on his silent question of _what-do-you-think?_, she stated, "I believe there's a more troubling matter that we should be concerned with right now."

"Like _what?_" Ron outburst. "The color of our socks?"

Glaring, Hermione crisply responded, "_No_. For the record, I'm talking about the stranger sitting next to Dumbledore."

Sure enough, next to Dumbledore, there she was—a strange woman wearing a pink suit, a peculiar, cheery smile plastered on her toad-like face.

Harry felt the blood drain from his face as he recognized her—one of the Ministry officials from the trial over the summer. She definitely hadn't sided with him, if her demeaning words and vote were anything to go by.

"She's from the Ministry," Harry muttered, catching Ron and Hermione's attention. "She was at the hearing."

Hermione looked like she was about to say something, but the sudden clinging of glasses brought everyone's attention to the front of the hall. Dumbledore was standing up, a glass and fork in his hands, smiling pleasantly at the students.

"With another year of Hogwarts begun, I beg a few moments of your time to make a couple of important announcements.

"First-years should know the Forbidden Forest is, as its name implies, forbidden. Upper year students should know this as well, though some of you seem to forget from time to time…"

Harry pointedly ignored this.

"Mr. Filch would like me to pass on the message that no magic is permitted in the hallways, nor are many other things that you can find on a long list outside his office door.

"Now, as most of you know, there has been a new addition to the school courses this year: Ghost Hunting is currently a mandatory fifth-year class, one of which will be taught by a new staff member. I would introduce you to him if he were here right now, however, it appears he is running a tad late…"

The trio looked at each other anxiously. No one ever ran late to Hogwarts' feast.

"But in his absence, I will introduce a returning Professor Grubblyplank—our new Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Also, I'd like to show you the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor: Dolores Umbridge."

The hall applauded, albeit unenthuisiastically, during which Harry felt a sinking feeling in his chest. If Grubblyplank was the new Care of Magical Creatures professor, where was Hagrid?

"Quidditch tryouts will take place…" Dumbledore trailed off then, glancing sideways at Professor Umbridge. She had coughed a little '_hem-hem_' and immediately, the headmaster went silent, stepping back as if to hand over the spotlight to her.

"What the…?" Ron whispered, glancing back-and-forth between Dumbledore and Umbridge. "Did she just _hush Dumbledore?"_

Evidently, she had. Walking towards the front of the Great Hall, an eerie smile on her face, the toad-like woman began, "Greetings, one and all, to another fresh year at Hogwarts. I am just _so delighted_ to see all your warm, inviting faces!

"I would just like to take a moment to…_educate_ you of the importance of my presence here, as well as remind you of the significance of the Ministry's involvement. The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction…"

People were already chatting as if she wasn't in the middle of a grand speech. Even Ron had gone back to eating his meal, completely oblivious to whatever Umbridge was rambling about. Harry had tried to pay attention—really, he had—but hearing the toad cheerily discuss all of the achievements of the Ministry with elaborate and in-depth detail?

Yeah, he could pass on that.

Harry did notice Hermione, surprisingly, was at rapt attention, staring attentively at the Ministry official the entire duration of the speech. He had to mentally applaud her—regardless of level of intelligence, listening to a rant worse than a lesson in History of Magic took extreme effort.

Fortunately, it seemed as if Umbridge had finally finished. With a perfect, pink-lipped grin still occupying her face, she exclaimed energetically, "With that said, I'm sure we're all going to get along just fi—"

Cutting her off, the doors of the Great Hall crashed open, resulting in a large _BOOM_ resonating through the hall. The sudden rush of air caused all the enchanted candles to flicker wildly and the napkins on the tables to drift away. The students and teachers gasped in panic, searching for the culprit…

...And finding one lone, scrawny teenager huffing tiredly in the middle of the doorway, bent over with his hands on his knees. His bright, baby blue eyes stared apologetically at the Headmaster.

"I…I am _so, _so s-sorry…"

Clumsily, he grabbed his luggage and walked at a brisk pace up the staff table, his gravity-defying black locks adding more to his frazzled demeanor. The entire Great Hall, save Dumbledore, was staring at him in shock, and already the rumor mill was beginning to turn.

Once he reached the staff's table, he promptly chugged his belongings to the ground, turned around, and looked over the rest of the Hall with a nervous smile.

"Hey guys, I apologize for the whole tardiness thing…you know how confusing airports can be." He attempted a laugh at this, but upon realizing no one understood the joke, he continued on, "Name's Fenton, Danny Fenton," again, he seemed to be referencing an inside joke, but at the descending silence he finally just gave up and concluded, "I'll be your 'Ghost Hunting' professor, so to speak and I, uh, can't wait to work with you guys."

With that last piece, he went to go sit at the staff table next to Grubblyplank, a bright, red blush following him to his seat.

Seeming to feel a bit sympathetic for the sap, Dumbledore explained, "Mr. Fenton is, if you can't tell by the accent, American, so do please try to make him feel welcome, as he is far away from home. That being said, I'd like to end off on just a few words: lemon drops, butternuts, and spaghetti squash!"

The whispers from earlier were nothing compared to now: Umbridge, no more Hagrid, and _an American Ghost-hunting Professor?_

_This_, Harry reflected, noticing the bright, red flush on Umbridge's face and the oblivious look on the new professor, _is going to be an interesting year._

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><p><strong>WOW. I <em>finally<em> got this out of my head! If I had a penny for every fanfiction plot bunny I had typed up, hidden away on my computer, I'd be filthy rich!**

**In reading a bunch of Danny Phantom and Harry Potter crossovers, I noticed not one of them involved Danny being a teacher. Thus, with a little spark of creativity and a sudden desire to see the results of mixing Hogwarts with a bunch of crazy ghosts, this was born!**

**I kind of rushed through writing it, and haven't edited anything yet. Plus, I'm not up-to-date on Harry Potter (unfortunately). It's been way too long since I've read it…if anyone is interested/knows of someone who can beta-read for me, please let me know. Lord knows I could use it…**


	2. Stranger

**Note: I'm a little shocked at how many people actually enjoyed reading this! Believe it or not, I do read through the reviews and take them to heart. So if you've left one—or even if you've stopped by to favorite/alert/read—I'd like to thank you personally :). It means a lot!**

**This came out pretty fast (well, 'fast' for me at least!), but that's mostly due to the fact that I typed it most of it up over break, and finished the rest of it on a snow day. The next installment may take some time, but here's a lengthy chapter that, hopefully, will compensate! I'm aiming to have one chapter a month, so we'll see how that goes.**

**In advance: I'm sorry for the lame beginning. As much as I wish I could just jump to the juicy parts, I need to explain everything that happens in-between. Again, none of this is edited (Beta reader, where art thou?).**

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 2: Stranger<strong>_

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><p>Harry wasn't in a good mood when he woke up.<p>

Not that he had been in a good mood at all in the past couple of months, being holed up at the Dursleys without any sort of contact from his friends; but he figured being at Hogwarts would change things.

And, as usual, he was wrong.

For one thing, after the Welcome-Back feast the night prior, his best friends—the only people in the school who didn't think he was some nut job looking for attention—ditched him. Because of their new "prefect" duties, which he was still questioning how Ron had earned in the first place, they had to escort the first years, leaving Harry to awkwardly wander the halls alone.

Then, by the time Ron and Hermione _had_ caught up with him, he had entered the common room only to have the people who had grown up with him in the past few years stare at him in disgust and horror.

Which then led into a fight with Dean and Seamus, his supposed "friends" who doubled as roommates.

Needless to say, Harry's fifth year had taken off to a bad start.

And go figure he would wake up late—late enough that all his roommates, save Ron, were already gone.

_Unless they intentionally left early so they wouldn't have to talk to me_, thought Harry bitterly.

Sighing, he forced himself up, knowing that self-pity would get him nowhere. Judging by the harsh, blinding sunlight that streamed through the window, it must have been well past 7, probably closer to 8 AM. Meaning that he had under an hour to get ready, eat breakfast, and make it on time to class.

He shoved his covers on the floor, standing up into a stretch. Upon hearing the _crack _in his muscles, he dressed up in the Hogwarts uniform, not even bothering to deal with the mop of black hair on his head. While pulling his robes over his uniform, he pondered about the new staffing additions, particularly one Dolores Umbridge. Hermione had mentioned at the feast last night that, whatever reason Umbridge was here for, it meant the Ministry was getting involved.

Harry personally held no opinion on what it meant, but her presence made him uncomfortable all the same. There was just something about her smile, her manicured nails, her proper, fancy outfits, and nicely-kept hair that felt _off_. While she was always smiling, the smile itself felt too plastic, as if a toymaker had gotten a paintbrush and smeared it on manually. Her overall appearance gave Harry the impression that he was dealing with a toad—an ugly, poisonous, _evil _toad.

And if the disconsolate expressions of the students last night were anything to go by, he wasn't the only one.

"Ron," Harry called, beginning to gather his books. "Ron, wake up, first day of classes, mate."

As expected, he received a loud snore in response.

Smirking, Harry said loudly, "I suppose that means you won't be joining me for breakfast, then?"

The reaction was instantaneous: Ron shot out of bed like a rocket, suddenly rushing around the room to get dressed and assort his book supplies.

"Harry, why didn't you wake me up sooner?!" he exclaimed in annoyance, stuffing shoes hurriedly on his feet.

Waiting by the door, a smug look on his face, the Boy-Who-Lived shrugged. He settled on watching Ron run like a madman through the room, throwing random shenanigans all over the floor and muttering curses every now and then. It seemed like hours when Ron finally finished, robes on and supplies in hand.

Bounding up to Harry, he burst, "Well, what are you standing there for? Are we getting food or not?"

Without waiting for an answer, he shoved past Harry and sped towards the direction of the Great Hall. Unable to help it, Harry let loose a large grin. It comforted him a little to know that, whereas the rest of Hogwarts would have issues with him because of his so-called "lies", the only issue Ron would _ever _have with him would be waking up late and missing out on breakfast.

He followed after his best friend, passing by moving staircases and gossiping classmates, in a struggle to keep up. It was quite ironic how the one who could barely keep up with Hagrid shuffling around could suddenly develop an intense speed that rivaled a centaur.

After practically sprinting the whole way there, the duo arrived at Great Hall. Scouting out the Gryffindor table they spotted Hermione, who waved them over enthusiastically. Sitting with her were Neville, Ginny, and the Weasley twins, all of whom were almost done with breakfast.

"Blimey," Ron complained as they reached the table, "Almost didn't wake up this morning, it was so early."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're lucky McGonagall didn't hand out time tables yet."

"Never mind that," Ron dismissed, plopping himself on a bench and grabbing the scrambled eggs that materialized from thin air, "I'm lucky the food's not gone yet!"

His siblings snickered at the response, while Hermione simply sighed.

"Did you guys hear about the new professor?" Fred (or George?) inquired, as Harry seated himself next to Ron and took some eggs as well.

"People are sayin' all of the ghosts love him…"

"…Because if they don't he'll beat the bloody pulp out of them…"

"…Since apparently he's the _only one _who can touch ghosts—"

"Oi!" Ginny exclaimed, cutting the twins off. "Knocker off! You know that's a load of shite."

But Ron was already suckered into the tale, interested enough to ignore his food for the moment. Eyes round with wonder, he asked, "You don't say?"

"Oh yeah! You didn't hear?" one started.

The other continued, "His course is called _Ghost Hunting_. Obviously the ghosts are suckering up so he doesn't exorcise them."

"_He's an exorcist?"_

Hermione and Harry shared an amused look before shaking their heads simultaneously.

"Whatever happens," said one of the twins, "You lot better tell us _every _grimy detail of his class!"

Ron blinked in confusion. "Wait, you two aren't taking it?"

They laughed in sync with one another, waving a flippant hand at Ron's question. "As if we're going to take on class on _hunting ghosts_," they chorused, erupting into laughter afterwards. Trademark of his Weasley heritage, Ron's ears flamed up.

"Really, what's the point of ghost hunting when…"

"…Ghosts aren't a threat to begin with?"

"Look at Peeves," Ginny interjected, "he's plenty enough of a threat! Did you see what he did to that poor first-year last term?"

Hermione pointed out, "Granted that's true, Peeves is also a poltergeist—a completely separate class from just normal ghosts."

"Do you think Professor Fenton will make us hunt poltergeists then?" asked Neville, who appeared to be deep in thought. "It would make sense, wouldn't it?"

The group contemplated that, each of them growing quiet. Neville brought up a good question; but even then, would Dumbledore _really_ allow someone to hunt ghosts, especially when Hogwarts castle was full of them?

"Well, you know what?" Harry said, effectively breaking the silence, "I guess we'll just have to find out."

After watching the rebirth of Voldemort, along with Cedric Diggory's death, and now having to tolerate some creepy pink toad lady who most likely had it out for him, Harry already had enough on his mind to worry about. He didn't need the addition of some bonkers American who hunted something as ludicrous as _ghosts_.

There were nods of agreement all around—with the exception of Hermione, who still looked troubled over something. Harry didn't have time to mull over her odd behavior when he noticed McGonagall with a stack of papers heading towards the table

He couldn't tell if he should have felt excited or nervous. Given he had Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology to look forward to, he wasn't sure how he felt about anything else. Defense Against the Dark Arts with _Umbridge_? A foreboding feeling welled up in his stomach about that combination, a feeling worse than heading to Potions with Snape.

Not to mention Trelawney's weekly death predictions in Divination; last year was painful enough, this year was bound to be _torturous_. There were already thousands of students who thought he was nuts, no doubt Trelawney would make it worse.

"To my lions," McGonagall called out amongst the chatter at the Gryffindor table, "your time tables. Please report to your classes immediately upon receiving them. No time to waste."

Quickly and efficiently, she distributed them among the Gryffindors, stopping lastly at the 'Golden Trio'. She gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione a stern look before deflating slightly and asking, "Is there any point in telling you three to stay out of trouble?"

"Probably not," Ron shrugged, grabbing his schedule out of her outstretched hand. Hermione sent him a death glare.

To compensate for Ron's rudeness, she said politely to McGonagall, "We'll try to."

Handing the last two papers to Harry and Hermione, their Head of House muttered, "For some reason, that does not sound promising." With that last remark, she walked away, leaving the three friends to share a knowing smirk.

"Hey, we don't find trouble. _Trouble_ finds _us_," Harry defended, to which Ron scoffed and slugged him in the shoulder.

"Yeah right, mate. Trouble doesn't find us; trouble finds _you_. Me and Hermione just get caught in the crossfire."

Though Hermione didn't say anything, she opted for a smile, neither confirming nor denying Ron's statement.

Harry rolled his eyes and gestured to their time tables. "Well, shall we get on with it?"

Immediately, the three tore open their envelopes and whipped their schedules out to look over it with anxious eyes. They let out collective gasp when they took note of what they had first.

Ron moaned, "Great, Ghost Hunting first hour, _and_ it's with Slytherin? We're doomed."

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Hermione mentioned wryly, "We could have had Potions, if that's better to your liking."

"Or History of Magic," Harry quipped, though he himself felt a little deflated. First class of the year and it's about learning how to "hunt a ghost" (whatever that meant) with a bunch of snakes?

With a groan, Ron grumbled, "Might as well get it over with as early as possible, right?"

"Where is it again?" Hermione wondered, checking over the list to find the location. "Oh," she said, "Underneath the Astronomy tower."

Harry nodded at first, though after a moment of contemplation, suddenly realized something.

"Wait, _underneath_ the Astronomy tower?" Harry asked, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you sure that's right?"

"Apparently so," Ron responded, having checked his own time table for reassurance. He pointed it out to Harry, nodding his head. "Right there, mate."

Feeling more than slightly confused, Harry slowly shook his head. As far as he knew, the Astronomy was the Astronomy tower. That was it. No underneath, beside, or above.

Hermione offered, "Perhaps it was added after Dumbledore hired him?"

With no better explanation, Harry shrugged and stood up from his seat. Ron and Hermione followed his lead, the three of them taking off in the direction of the Astronomy tower.

Soon enough, they reached the entranceway to their destination. Curiously, however, there was a paper arrow taped on the door, pointing to a staircase built into the floor, leading to where Harry assumed was "underneath" the tower. There were faint voices echoing from within—the rest of the class must have been down there already.

"Is it me, or are you guys getting the creeps from that conveniently-place staircase?"

Smacking Ron upside the head, Hermione scowled, "Honestly, Ronald." Taking the lead, she assertively strolled down the stairs, leaving Harry and Ron to stumble hurriedly behind her. Harry heard Ron complain about something that sounded like 'girls on their period' but wisely did not comment.

Wherever they were headed, it was dark—so much so that they almost couldn't see the steps they were descending. Luckily, someone had placed torches on the sides of the stair walls to illuminate the steep, metal passage. If it wasn't so eerily quiet, Harry would have questioned the use of a metal staircase, as opposed to the typical wood or stone material the rest of the castle was composed of.

The further down they went, the less their footsteps echoed and the more they could hear other voices. Eventually, they reached the bottom of the staircase, where they met the rest of their Gryffindor classmates, in addition to the Slytherins reclusively standing off to the side. Neville, amongst the crowd, bounded over to them once noticing their presence.

"Phew, I thought for sure we were late," Ron said in relief, though the look on Neville's face was anything but.

"Actually," he commented, a worried frown in place, "You _are_ late. The professor hasn't shown up yet."

"Impossible," Harry deadpanned, "There's barely anyone in the halls. No way would a professor be running _this _late."

Neville pointed to a large, strange-looking door behind him. "See for yourself."

Shoving the students out of the way—which wasn't that difficult considering they were voluntarily moving away from him—Harry advanced to the front of the group, giving a once-over to a giant, metal contraption that he assumed led to their classroom. It was a door, that was for sure, but it wasn't like any door he had ever seen in Hogwarts, much less _anywhere_. Ingrained in the metal surface were emerald-green lines crossing each other in an odd, grid-like pattern. Upon closer inspection, the light behind the lines almost appeared as if they were moving—as if they were…_alive_.

Behind him, Harry heard Ron murmur in awe, "Merlin's beard…"

The group of students had quieted down, as if waiting for Harry to make some sort of conclusion about the peculiar door before them. However, despite their assumptions, he had no clue what to make of it, other than the deduction that it was some upscale technology.

But then, that didn't make sense. Technology wouldn't—_couldn't _work in Hogwarts. Cell phones, electricity, gadgets…Harry had tried numerous times to bring a couple of trinkets during his first year, only to be forced to throw them away in disappointment.

"Hermione," he beckoned, a curious tone in his voice, "How much do you know about muggle technology?"

Ignoring the sudden bout of whispers, he turned his head to watch Hermione scrutinize the door, her eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

"Though I've never seen anything like this up close, I must say, it looks…familiar….somehow," she trailed off, her voice taking on a trance-like quality to it. Her eyes roamed over it again before they widened in surprise. "Wait—look at that, there!"

Hermione had pointed to a rectangular device set in the wall, one that Harry recognized from practically every Scy-fy movie he had ever watched.

"I think it's a…handprint scanner?"

A snort brought him out of his musings. "Of course Pothead and Mudblood would know about the _muggle_ piece of crap on the wall."

Harry fought with himself not to turn around and hex Malfoy right there on the spot. Detention wasn't that enticing, but seeing Malfoy turn into a bouncing ferret, however…

"Back off, Malfoy," Ron scowled from beside Harry, his face turning a darker shade of red than his hair. Malfoy sneered, giving him a condescending once-over.

"Oh, you're still Potter's friend, are you? I'm surprised you haven't abandoned him yet…then again, you _are _a Weasley, so the lack of brains is expected."

Before Ron could sputter out an indigenous remark, Draco turned his attention to the device. "Fantastic, not only is loony Dumbledore adding some pointless Ghost Hunting class, but now he's bringing _muggle_ technology inside the castle? Just _wait _until my father hears about this…"

In a tone that just _lured _a challenge, Hermione commented, "And I suppose _you_ know how to work it?"

Draco straightened up with a little 'huff', snobbishly raising his nose upwards to peer at the handprint detector with a glare.

"As if muggle technology can compete with _magic_," he snorted, "Just watch and learn."

Everyone stood back, watching in curiosity as Draco composed himself and dramatically pulled out his wand. The temptation to punch the git in the face was strong, but Harry held back in favor of watching Draco make a fool of himself.

The Slytherin aimed his wand upwards. He did a sort of hair flip, afterwards shaking his body a little, as if preparing himself. Upon the subsequent, anticipating silence of the rest of the young wizards, Draco called out confidently, "_Allohamora!"_

A bright red light shot from the tip of his wand into the scanner. Everyone observed the display with fascination, waiting expectantly for the door to open. Draco himself had a giant sneer on his face, turning around to face Harry. "You see? Simple."

However, instead of opening, the scanner redirected the magic back at Draco. The same bolt of red light hit him square in the face and caused him to tumble in reverse, landing on his back.

Ron snickered. "Wow, Malfoy, you did a number on that thing, let me tell you."

Draco glowered at Ron with all the force and sophisticated grace he could muster. "That should have worked."

"Should have, but it didn't."

That sentence had been spoken by someone new: a certain _someone_ with an American accent.

Eyes widening in disbelief, Harry swiveled around—coming face-to-face with a slyly-grinning Professor Fenton.

Appearing very amused, the American continued, "You'll find that I use a sort of…_special_ kind of technology. One that isn't affected by magic."

The professor stepped around Harry and on-the-floor Draco to approach the device. Everyone held their breath, watching with wide, curious eyes. He raised his hand towards the scanner. After placing it on the pad, a glowing line passed down over the screen, making a strange whizzing noise.

Nothing happened at first. The students were confused, a couple of them sharing unsure glances with their friends. Harry had shot a pointed look to Hermione, to which she shrugged in response.

But then, the entire door came to life—parts of the metal un-attaching themselves from the door to form a variety of unidentifiable tools and weapons. Most of them had transformed into some sort of claw, all of which had taken to prodding the professor's body: his clothes, his skin, his ears, everywhere. Others shifted into what could only be a type of laser, a red, scanning beam slowly traveling over his eyes, hair, and entire body.

By the time the security-door-machine-_thing _(for Harry couldn't place a name to it) was finished, every underage wizard had dumbstruck expressions on their faces.

Clearing his throat, the professor turned around. A mischievous glint in his eye, he remarked, "You guys can go inside now."

No sooner had he made the suggestion that the door had rearranged itself, split in half, and slid into the wall. Completely unfazed, the professor waltzed casually into the classroom, causing the unmoving students to become animated again and trail hastily after him.

On their way inside, Ron whispered to Harry, "I can't believe I'm saying it, but I think that's about the strangest thing I've ever seen in my life. Stranger than _Dumbledore_, even."

Despite having witnessed many quirky and eccentric aspects of the wizarding world, Harry found himself nodding his head in agreement.

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><p><strong>If there's one thing I've discovered while writing this, it's that I really, really, <strong>_**really**_** do not enjoy writing Harry Potter. **

**I love **_**reading **_**Harry Potter, and the overall movie/book series in general, but writing it is a completely different experience. Please point out any mistakes you might notice. It's difficult writing the setting and point of view of a subject you're not that comfortable with. Having not read the book in ages, I have no recollection of the exact events that occurred, and am going solely off of anything I can recall from the movies. Really, Danny Phantom is more my field of expertise; the only motivation for me to finish this is for sake of writing Professor Danny, nothing more. **

**Frankly, writing in Harry's perspective is **_**frustrating**_**. If I could, I would choose to write in Danny's point-of-view over Harry's any day. *sighs* Unfortunately, though, this story is better off through the eyes of Harry. Danny already knows everything—all the twists and turns that he's going to cause Hogwarts to go through…to write in his POV would ruin all the mystery and excitement! If I do write in his perspective, it'll probably be in later chapters.**

_**ANSWERS TO SOME OF YOUR QUESTIONS:**_** A lot of reviewers made inquiries about Danny's current background, regarding topics like Sam and Danny's relationship, Danny's age/appearance, etc. You'll find out soon enough, though that information won't necessarily be important to the plot. I really only made it AU so that this story could work and make sense. It would have been really weird to have a fourteen-year-old Danny Fenton teaching a Hogwarts class, especially with everyone knowing his secret. **

**Until next time~**

_-Amanda_


	3. Changing Impressions

**Note: A lot of you offered suggestions and help, to which, again, THANK YOU! As I have already mentioned, me and Harry aren't on the same wavelength. I just don't like writing him, end of story. I even spelt Alohamora wrong (and currently still am). **

**But, alas, I will trudge through and hope it gets better (ItTicklesLikeCrazy). **

**To anyone who gave ideas, thanks! I can't say I'll use them, because I already know how I want everything to play out and have plenty of ideas on my own, but your ideas make me think and help inspire **_**other **_**ideas for the plot. Thank you :).**

**(Also, if I responded to your review twice/not at all…I am sorry. I'm getting a lot of things mixed up and my computer acts up sometimes…i.e. it says I sent something but then it didn't or it goes to the wrong person…bad combination. This is why I despise technology, lol)**

**So, Danny might come off as being OOC in this chapter. To anyone who might think this, keep in mind that he is older now. With age comes experience, and with experience comes character development. He'll always be clumsy and shy and whatnot, but he isn't stupid. And, most certainly, after being bullied for **_**years, **_**he's done taking everyone's crap. **

**Plus, well, I have the creative license to develop him this way, and that's how it is. LOL. Perks of being the author. **

**ALSO**

**I OFFICIALLY HAVE A BETA READER**

**To those who offered: thank you, but alas I have found one :). Her name is Laura (penname: Lectori Salutem) and she is a wonderful human being who you can thank for helping me edit/post this and all future chapters :D. A shoutout to her for not just being a beta reader, but also a fun friend to talk to ^_^.**

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><p><strong><em>Chapter 3: Changing Impressions<em>**

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><p>From the start, everyone knew Dumbledore was, for lack of a better word, eccentric. There was that little twinkle in his eyes that unnerved all of those who saw it, and the all-knowing, too-kind smile that made one feel as if he knew more than he let on. Wizards could say all they liked about how much of a crazy lunatic he was; but, in the end, the weirdness and oddities were all just a cover-up. Something to distract others from the true motives he held up his purple-robed sleeve.<p>

When Harry walked into Professor Fenton's room for the first time, he could tell there was something more to Dumbledore's random hiring of an American Ghost-hunting professor.

Living with the Dursleys and being forced to watch Dudley's favorite science-fiction shows, Harry had been exposed to his fair share of laboratories. From Star Trek to Doctor Who—he'd seen it all.

But this, this was something on a whole new level.

He had tried to contain his emotions, but the second he stepped foot into the laboratory, his jaw dropped. It was _huge_. Huge, spacious, and _completely metal. _The walls and floors must have been made from the same material as the door—they, too, had animated green lines travelling around the room in odd twists and patterns.

To top it all off, the entire lab was _stocked_ with technology. Not just typical muggle technology either—highly-developed machinery that Harry had only saw or heard of in fictional movies and book. Lasers lined up on the side, a giant flat-screen tv in the corner, a projector hanging from the ceiling, microscopes and labeled glass beakers filled with unknown chemicals—it was like muggle chemistry, just far more advanced.

How the technology was up and functioning, Harry had no clue. It had shocked him at first to see the door, but this whole room was just way too much. Magic was supposed to interfere with technology—to render it useless. Yet, here he was, standing in the most technology-decked-out room he'd ever laid eyes on. If this was how _he, _a muggle-raised wizard, was feeling, he could only imagine how everyone else felt.

The American's voice brought Harry out of his stupor. "Guys, as awesome as I know my classroom is, I would kind of appreciate it if you sat down at your desks."

He mustn't have been the only one shocked into awe, judging by the blushes on all the others' faces. Immediately, the Slytherins and Gryffindors parted, one group headed towards the left side of the room, and the other to the right side. The professor observed with pursed lips as they wandered to their desks, but said nothing else.

Once everyone was situated, he clapped his hands. "All right. So. I have a feeling most of you aren't used to this."

Harry glanced to his left, noting Ron's dumbfounded stare. Though, for once, he wasn't alone.

"And that's perfectly okay. I understand that magical folks such as yourselves aren't accustomed to this technology. If it makes you guys feel any better, muggles aren't either. The room you're in right now is a one-of-a-kind, super-advanced laboratory, one that not many people know about."

Impressed glances were shared throughout the class, although Malfoy, who was a couple seats across from Harry, bore an exasperated look.

"Well, first thing's first. The name's, as I told you at the feast, Daniel Fenton. I know proper etiquette calls for you to address me as Professor Fenton."

He frowned at the end of his sentence, waited a moment, and continued, "Thing is, I'm not so big on the formal stuff. It's just, I dunno, weird. It reminds me of my high school English teacher, so, er, just stick to calling me Danny, okay?"

As he scanned the class, no one said anything. Aside from a few background whirring noises (most likely from the machines), it was completely silent, and the atmosphere got slightly uncomfortable.

He continued, "I guess I'll tell you guys a little bit about myself. For starters…_I am not a teenager."_

His tone had gone from light and nervous to bold and serious instantly. His eyes stared sternly into everyone else's, making some students avoid eye contact and fidget. The sudden change shocked Harry. From what he gathered at the feast, this professor was of the clumsy sort—gawky and socially awkward. He stuttered most of the time, and almost reminded Harry of Professor Quirrell in the beginning of his first year.

Somehow, in a few seconds, Danny did a complete 360 in attitude—completely crumbling everything Harry thought he knew about him.

"Despite what you guys may think," he said, a tinge of annoyance in his tone, "I'm actually 22. Yes, I know, I have a baby face that old ladies feel inclined to pinch from time-to-time—but if there is one thing I demand in this classroom, it is your utmost respect. Think you can give me that?"

Hesitantly, a couple of people, Harry included, nodded.

At that response, the dark, cold demeanor was gone and he reverted back to his earlier behavior. "Great! Sorry for the scary face, but, well, I take my profession very seriously. After a long history of disrespect in my past, I refuse to deal with it anymore. I am your professor, and you are my students. Capisce_?_"

When no one answered, he asked again, pointedly this time, "_Capisce?"_

Neville raised his hand. Enthusiastically, he called out, "You, what's up?"

"Prof—I mean, er, Danny—what, exactly is 'Ka-peesh'?"

He stared dumbly at Neville for a moment before smacking his forehead. "Oh, right. British, yeah. Um, it means 'understood'. Sorry, it's American slang."

Seeing the confused looks on everyone's face, he diverted the topic, "Moving on! So, in this course, you're going to be doing more than learning. You're also going to be _preparing_. Preparing for what, you may ask?" His expression turned somber. "You will be preparing for an invasion. An invasion of _ghosts._"

Half the class snickered, most of it coming from the Slytherin side. Malfoy was the loudest, not even bothering to hide his condescending bemusement. Harry had almost let out a chuckle, but the glower in Danny's eyes intimidated him into silence.

"I'm aware that most of you think this a joke because, well, _ghosts_. Ghosts can't even harm us, right?"

Though Harry found truth in the statement, there was something about the all-too-pleasant tone the professor was using that made him think otherwise.

Making eye contact with every kid in the room, he stated, "That assumption is, unfortunately, wrong. You see, _wizarding _ghosts are harmless, yes."

He paused, seeming to calculate everyone's reactions. "_Muggle _ghosts, on the other hand, are a completely different story."

There were sharp intakes of breath all around, some looking stunned and others looking suspicious. Harry himself didn't know what to feel; yes, muggles died too and most likely went to the same afterlife as wizards, but he hadn't ever thought about it, much less deemed it significant enough to ponder.

Danny sighed, though afterwards straightened up in a business-like manner. "I know it's a little hard to believe, but there are other things out there that aren't related to magic. Things that go bump in the night and can be just as powerful, if not more, as a trained wizard with a wand. In this class, you will learn how to fight off these beings. You will learn what they are and how they function."

Again, he paused for a moment. He met the eyes of every student in the room, wearing a grave expression. Harry hadn't completely believed him at first, but seeing him in this state lessened some of his doubt.

"I know this is difficult to understand, especially to believe," he said with an empathetic voice, "but trust me, I've seen it. My parents, at the moment, have an inter-dimensional _portal_ in their basement, that leads to an endless universe we call the _Ghost Zone_. They've been hunting and studying ghosts for years, thus the reason I'm involved in the profession today. You may not take me seriously now…"

He trailed off, staring at a couple of Slytherins in particular.

"….but…" he picked up, "You will. By the end of this course, everything you think you know about the world will change. _That, _I can promise you."

He attempted to smile at the class, but in the end it just turned into an awkward grimace.

"Jeez," he commented lightly, "You guys are staring at me like I just told you your pet cat just died."

Everyone was holding their breaths, watching him apprehensively. Even Harry was unsure how to act around him— to Harry, Danny seemed somewhat bipolar: easy-going one minute, rigid the next. He wanted to be able to rely on this professor, to maybe even consider him trustworthy as he did McGonagall and Dumbledore, but he wasn't certain that Danny was reliable. Perhaps, in the near future, he would know after he got acquainted better and discussed Danny with Dumbledore. But, not now. Not yet.

The professor sighed and walked over to a discrete metal door on one of the side walls. He placed his hand on the handle, about to open it, but stopped himself in favor of surveying the class behind him.

"This is the part where you can either choose to sit at your desks all day thinking I'm a psychopath, or put a little bit of faith in me and learn something that you actually might find really cool.

"I mean, I'd personally take the initiative to follow but, your decision." He shrugged, before opening the door and entering the neighboring room. Instead of allowing the door to close behind him, he left it open a tiny crack.

It was quiet in the class, the students looking around at each other as if waiting for someone to make the brave decision to go. Harry overheard Dean and Seamus behind him bickering in hushed voices about going; Dean wanted to go check it out, Seamus argued they should just leave the class.

"Can I just say…" Ron began quietly to Harry and Hermione, "That this bloke officially beats Dumbledore in the _strange_ department."

Hermione asked curiously, "You don't like him?"

"Like him?" Ron scoffed. "Are you serious? Man's a nutter if I've ever seen one. Talking about dimensions and muggle ghosts and whatever conspiracy he can come up with."

There was a few seconds of silence before Hermione slowly replied, "To be honest…I kind of like him."

"Of course you do, you always have a crush on the young male professors," Ron pointed out. Wrong thing to say, for Hermione stood up rapidly in her seat and, on the way to following the professor into the other room, jabbed Ron in the head with her elbow.

"Bloody—" Ron swore, glaring after her and ignoring the giggles of the Patil twins and Lavender Brown sitting at neighboring desks. "What in the name of Merlin was that for?"

Harry sniggered, "Probably for '_having the emotional range of a teaspoon'_."

Ron groaned, "We should probably follow her, shouldn't we?"

"Probably."

They simultaneously rose from their seats, the action encouraging a couple more students to join them. Walking across the classroom, towards the right end, Harry noticed Malfoy and his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, grudgingly get up. They could complain all they wanted about this class, but they _had _to have at least been curious.

That was the only reason Harry hadn't up-and-left, after all. Of course, there was also the fact that this was a class and could directly affect his grades and, thus, his future; but, still, despite how insane Danny sounded, intuition was telling Harry to listen.

He might as well give the professor a chance. He had figured Dumbledore to be crazy, after all, until he realized how witty and intelligent the man could be. Perhaps Danny was a similar case.

When Harry entered through the partly-opened door, everything that he had thought was incredible before suddenly dimmed in comparison.

Sure, the fancy-schmancy technology in the classroom was pretty cool. But the _weapons_ and—_are those BAZOOKAS?—_scattered throughout the armory was absolutely—

"Wicked," Ron whispered, eyes darting back-and-forth between all the various guns and inventions.

Yeah, except, even 'wicked' couldn't possibly describe how articulate, and dangerous, the guns looked. Guns normally weren't much of a concern in the wizarding world, but he had a feeling _these_ guns, in particular, functioned differently. They, too, were decorated in the same green lines that had been all over the laboratory. If the door could function regardless of the castles' magic, most likely these weapons could operate as well.

The rest of the students filed in, all of them ogling over the weapons and roaming their eyes everywhere they could. Even the Slytherins look fairly impressed, which was quite a feat given that their beloved leader, Draco Malfoy, was rolling his eyes at everything and trying to get his house to follow along with him.

Further across the room, Danny stood, watching everyone's reactions with a tiny smile.

Once everyone was situated and the loud talking died down to soft whispering, Danny said, "This stuff may amaze you now, but by the end of the year you'll be unimpressed with how simple these weapons actually are."

Chuckling at some of the scared faces (particularly one Neville Longbottom) he comforted, "Don't worry! It's really not that dangerous. Thing is, though this stuff may be lethal to a ghost, it's completely harmless to humans."

A couple of students sighed in relief, Harry included . There was just something ominous about guns. Wands could kill just as easily, yes, but guns were much more brutal. More violent, more painful, more grimy. If Harry could choose, he'd rather a spell knock him out than a bullet traveling 176 mph through his heart.

"Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your perspective, we won't be learning how to use these just yet. You need to understand the basis of them first. You see, everything in this course comes down to ectoplasm. Ghosts are made of ectoplasm. Powers are generated by ectoplasm. These weapons were created using—_shocker—_ectoplasm!"

_Ecto-what?_

Blaise Zabini, voicing everyone's thoughts, inquired suspiciously, "And what, exactly, is this 'ectoplasm'?"

Danny paused, frowning in thought. "Hm. Can't really explain it now, but you'll know what it is by the end of next lecture."

The whispers had started up again. Pansy Parkinson, in her scratchy, whiny voice, complained about how absolutely absurd this whole course was to Draco and the other Slytherins. Hermione and Neville meanwhile marveled at the new, albeit unusual, material—and judging from the interested faces of those such as Dean and Seamus, they weren't alone.

Of course, there was also Lavender and the Patil twins comparing the crazy professor to "crazy Harry", but Harry had decided to neglect their comments and pretend as if he couldn't hear them.

"I'm sorry for all this new information," the professor apologized, cutting across the whispers and halting them immediately, "It's a lot to take in; trust me, I know. In the long run, though, it'll work to benefit you."

Hearing the severity in the professor's tone threw Harry off. At first, he considered the man crazy. But the more he spoke, the more genuine and, well, _normal_ he seemed.

That is, 'normal' by wizarding standards anyway.

Granted there was this entire laboratory that more or less freaked Harry out, but other than that…Danny wasn't so bad.

Ending the lesson, the professor concluded, "Thank you for bearing with my tardiness and lecture. Unfortunately, today will be cut very short, seeing as there is not much you can learn just yet. For now, I just want you to write a four-page essay on everything and _anything_ you know about ghosts and any spectral being. Could be a well-known myth or general fact, any information is good information."

Half the students lightly sputtered, about to raise inquiries, when the professor held his hand up.

"Many of you probably have questions, but I assure you they'll be answered in due time. On that note, enjoy the rest of your first day!"

He cheerily ushered them out of the room, waving off "but you can't do that!"s and "you can't leave us hanging!"s. Harry got the impression this was his goal all along: to stir up curiosity. Which, in retrospect, he certainly had.

By the time the last student, Lavender, exited through the giant metal door, it slammed shut in the rest of the wizards' faces—leaving confused students on one side and the mysterious professor on the other.

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><p><strong>I probably could have spent more effort in fixing this up but…*shrugs* too lazy and too little time. <strong>

**Sorry for the much longer wait than before! If I had this posted as soon as it was written, it would ruin my "flow" so to speak. I know that if I continuously post every day, I'll eventually hit some sort of hiatus and it'll take me forever to get through it. Plus, I need extra time to have it beta-ed and edited. So, one chapter a month helps regulate myself. That way, even if I'm finished with a chapter, I can work on the next one, and so on and so forth.**

**Speaking of, I can't wait to have the next few chapters up. I'm on the fifth chapter now and things are…well…getting interesting ;). Hint: it involves Umbridge.**

**Also, I should probably mention that I'm trying to stick to the canon as much as possible, so any requests for weird pairings—sorry, it's not my thing. I'm not much of a romantic anyway, so romance isn't the focus of this story (but I'll probably throw some lovey-dovey fluff in here every now and then). **

**Until next time!**

_~Amanda_

**P.S. IMPORTANT PLEASE READ AS THIS IS AN ADDRESS TO FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:**

**Sorry for making this author's note longer but, in regards to how this AU universe works…**

**I've decided to change the years HP takes place in to fit in with the DP timeline. If I follow the DP timeline and add in the amount of years Danny has aged, this would make the setting take place in about 2013/2014 (so, right now :D). Honestly, they're really not that far apart so it won't have much of an effect anyway. But I'm just doing this so it makes sense and to answer any questions. **

**Keep in mind, this DOES take place in the future (for DP anyway). So, Danny IS older, and for all you know he could be married and have kids and certain people could know his secret (not that this is definitely the case, but just as a hypothetical example)…I know many of you are curious as to Danny's situation at home and how he came to Hogwarts but, again, you'll know in due time. It's not that I'm trying to keep anything a secret; it's just that I'd rather let out certain details in moderation so I don't spend an entire chapter on straight up filler information. **


	4. And So It Begins

**Note:**** Alas, I've finally finished editing this. I tried having it done in April, but school likes making my life miserable and busy. It's extra-long though, so I hope that counts for something. Thanks again to **_**Lectori Salutem**_** for editing! It really makes a difference in writing and makes the chapter sound so much better!**

**Your reviews make my day, seriously. A lot of you have good advice, ideas, and compliments to give. If I had enough time to respond to them all, I would. They really help motivate me and inspire me to write, so thank you bunches!**

**I had a lot of fun writing the end of this chapter. Ah, and so the chaos begins…**

**If it seems like I'm skipping around, it's probably because I feel no point in re-writing Order of the Phoenix in my own words, especially since you've all most likely read/seen it already. I try to only write what needs to be known. And even then that stuff tends to be slightly different from the book because we have new elements added into the mix. (Like, for instance, the box ghost).**

**Oops! Was that a spoiler? My bad…**

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 4: And So It Begins<strong>_

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><p>Over the course of the next few hours, Harry found himself back in his favorite class—Transfiguration. What was better: it was his first class of the year without the Slytherins. Granted the other Hufflepuff students still gave him odd stares and whispered behind his back, it was certainly far more subtle and tolerable than the usual jibes he got from the Slytherin house.<p>

However, despite feeling back at home, his mind kept wandering to other matters. The topics discussed earlier that morning in Ghost Hunting made Harry wonder a lot about the origins of ghosts and wizarding magic. He tried to disregard them, but somehow a stray thought would pop out of nowhere and lead to a whole mental tangent.

Maybe the reason wizards had never known about muggle ghosts was because they didn't care enough to notice. Wizards, particularly pureblood wizards, had a preconceived notion that muggles were beneath them. They never bothered to educate themselves on their technology or discoveries, preferring to stick to their own culture.

So perhaps muggle ghosts _did _exist. Perhaps what Danny had been talking about wasn't completely bonkers information.

Perhaps there were beings out there that were more powerful than wizards.

And it was that kind of thought which truly perturbed Harry. Wizards normally out-competed muggles in terms of power. Wizards had magic, muggles did not. Magic worked in mysterious and powerful ways, thus always putting muggles at a disadvantage.

But if there were creatures out there—creatures that could make technology work in a castle full of magic and had abilities beyond that of a wizard—then the odds were changed. Wizards no longer had the magical advantage.

Wizards were no longer on the top of the power chain.

"—ter! Mr. Potter! Are you all right?"

Harry blinked, and almost smacked himself when he realized he had spaced out again. Damn it—that had been the fourth time!

"Sorry Professor McGonagall, just a little tired is all," he apologized, ignoring the snickers going around the room. He could faintly make out Zacharias Smith murmuring about how Harry probably was getting tired of whining to the press and being the center of attention, causing a couple other Hufflepuffs to laugh softly.

"I suggest you get a better night's sleep next time you have classes early in the morning," McGonagall reprimanded, giving him a stern look before continuing on with the lesson.

He tried paying attention for another five minutes until eventually giving up. There was too much on his mind—too many questions and inquiries and conflicts. Later after classes, he would have to pay Dumbledore a visit in an attempt to solve his grievances. Specifically, grievances regarding everyone's harsh treatment towards him, as well as the multiple questions he still had about both the events over the summer and the odd new professor.

Not to mention his resentment over how out of the loop he was before coming to the Order. It was nigh time Harry gave the headmaster a piece of his mind after being ignored for a solid four months. Oh, that was definitely the _first _on his list of top priorities.

At some point the lesson had concluded, for when Harry was finally brought out of his musings he noticed that half the class was already gone. Hermione and Ron, bless them, were waiting patiently by the door.

He was about to join his friends when McGonagall called, "Mr. Potter? A word, please?"

_Aw crud. _

He resisted the urge to sigh and slam his head against the table. As much as he admired McGonagall, he wasn't in the mood for a lecture. Grudgingly, he dragged his body out of his chair, and walked lazily in the direction of his Head of House.

Luckily, though, as he approached her, the usual strict frown on her face was absent.

"I noticed you were a bit…inattentive today. Anything wrong, Mr. Potter?"

He shrugged tiredly, not knowing what to say_. _Professor McGonagall's deep-wrinkled blue eyes look sympathetically at him, her mouth deepening into a concerned frown. She stated, "While I am your professor and as such am responsible for enforcing proper behavior, I am also your Head of House. Please, feel free to come to me with any issues you may have."

Before he could chicken out on asking, Harry blurted, "What do you know about Professor Fenton?"

Her reaction was a little unanticipated. Harry had expected her to scoff at him and wave him off, but instead her eyes softened with something akin to understanding.

"As much as I wish I could help you in that area," she responded, voice neutral, "I'm afraid he's as much of an enigma to me as he is to you."

And with that, Professor McGonagall succinctly bid him farewell, her intense gaze leaving no room for further remarks. Though she hadn't given him much of an answer, her response comforted him a little in that he wasn't the only one befuddled by the new professor. If even Professor McGonagall was thrown off by him, perhaps Harry wasn't over-thinking the matter.

Upon reuniting with his two best friends, Harry ignored their interrogating about what McGonagall had discussed with him—waving them off and assuring them he was fine and not in trouble. Ron seemed ready to continue arguing, but a rather hard shove into his rib by Hermione made him quiet, to which Harry was extremely grateful.

"So, what's next on the schedule?" Harry asked, trying to divert the topic.

Hermione retrieved her time-table, a moment passing by before her eyebrows shot up and her mouth deepened into a worried frown.

"Defense against the Dark Arts," she answered stoically.

Hermione's strange behavior not going unnoticed, Ron wondered apprehensively, "Who's the professor?"

"Professor Umbridge."

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><p>Harry took a deep breath, mentally steadying himself as he eyed the medium oaken doors before him. After realizing what class he had and who was teaching it, there had been a nervous pit forming in his stomach. As if it wasn't bad enough that <em>every year<em> some misfortunate event _coincidentally_ happened to the ever-changing DADA professor, this year's professor was one who worked for the Ministry. She had already gotten off on the wrong foot with Harry because of the trial, and for some reason he had a feeling their relationship wouldn't be on the best of terms in this class either.

His hand ghosted over the knob, almost touching it, but still not making the effort to actually open the door.

"Uh…Harry?"

He blinked, glancing quickly to Ron beside him. Oh, right. There were other people here too.

"If the door is that difficult to open, I'll do it for you…"

"I've got it," he grumbled moodily, finally twisting the knob and shoving the door open. The other side revealed a class half-filled with students, as well as a smiling Professor Umbridge standing in the front of the room. Despite that class technically hadn't started yet, not a single person was talking, which was atypical to the normal gossip before class.

Trying not to express his discomfort, Harry headed for the desk all the way in the back in an attempt to further the distance between him and Umbridge as much as possible. Ron took the second seat before Hermione could, to which she huffed irritably and sat next to Lavender Brown in front of them.

It was awkward, to say the least. Harry had never attended a classroom so quiet, especially with Pansy Parkinson around. He had at least expected her, or even some girls from his house, to make a remark about him upon his arrival. But as it seemed, even they were intimidated into silence.

There was a grandfather clock in the corner of the room, and the room was quiet enough that the ominous ticks could be heard. Students from all around were shuffling in their seats and lightly coughing—but with the silence of the room, they sounded like loud clamors. Harry kept looking around, trying to distract himself from his current state of boredom.

Eventually everyone—Slytherins and Gryffindors alike—piled in. Umbridge, once again in her all-pink outfit, coughed a little 'hem-hem' and gathered the attention of all the students.

"Welcome, my lovely little cherubs, to _Defense Against the Dark Arts_. As you already know from my introduction last night, there will be slight, ahem, _improvements _in the course curriculum. Fortunately, you now have a competent teacher, myself, giving the lessons. Which means, unlike in the past, you will be taught theoretical information on standard defense by both my effective methods and impeccable knowledge."

Harry nearly gagged at the term 'cherubs', and didn't even bother holding in his snort at hearing 'impeccable knowledge'. If this was what the rest of the year was going to be like, perhaps the idea of Voldemort painfully killing him wasn't so bad…

Umbridge smoothly flicked her wand, conjuring up a little blackboard and piece of chalk. Casting a spell on the chalk piece, it floated and began writing on the board. It eventually wrote out the name of the course, her name, and the title of the assigned reading in store for them.

"For those who don't already know," Umbridge said, her sugar-sweet voice unable to hide the pompousness in it, "I am Dolores Umbridge, though you will of course refer to me as Professor Umbridge. Let's start the lesson in a positive way. Good afternoon class!"

_Wow_, Harry mused to himself at the descending silence, _so this is what they mean when they say, 'So quiet you can hear a pin drop'._

Ironically enough, he could've sworn there was a light tap against the floor…

"I said," Umbridge started again, though there a dangerous edge to her suddenly loud voice, "_Good. __Afternoon__. Class."_

This time, everyone answered back, "_Good __afternoon__ Professor Umbridge._"

She clapped at her results, smiling at all the grimaces on the students' faces. "Much better," she chirped, though it more closely resembled a gargling squirrel. "Turn to page 154 in your textbooks and begin the reading assignment. There will be no need for wands, so please put them away for the remainder of the class."

_No wands? _Harry thought, watching Umbridge's cheery façade. _Seriously?_ But it was a little too early to be getting into trouble, so he did as he was told and picked up his dull textbook, turning to page 154. In front of him, however, he noticed Hermione's hand sticking straight up in the air.

And that was the first sign that this class was going to go horribly wrong.

The second sign was the pointed ignorance, if not subtle anger, of Professor Umbridge while the class stared at Hermione's stubborn act.

And then the third sign was the noticeable drop in temperature that seemed to reflect the coldness from both Hermione and Umbridge. Though, unbeknownst to the students, the temperature was related to another matter altogether…

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" Umbridge finally called, the barest trace of annoyance in her tone.

Hermione stated boldly, "Professor, there's nothing in this book about actually _using _our wands."

A few whispers erupted at the statement, but were hushed immediately by Umbridge clearing her throat.

"Deary, why ever would you need to? What kind of dark force out there could possibly aim at innocent little children such as yourselves? To need a wand would imply that the Ministry cannot perform its task of keeping its citizens safe and protected."

Whatever way this debate ended, Harry didn't see it ending peacefully. He was already getting furious himself, and he wasn't even involved in the argument.

"But what about dark wizards? What about—"

Harry had a feeling she was going to say 'Voldemort'; but, regardless of what was about to come out of her mouth, it was completely interrupted by the door slamming open.

Everyone turned around to find, tiredly huffing at the opening, a frantic, wide-eyed Danny Fenton. The resemblance to his entering at the Great Hall was uncanny, and even Umbridge had that similar red, infuriated face as she did on that night when he interrupted her grand speech.

"Did, uh, anyone happen to catch a glowing pudgy blue man floating by?" he asked hurriedly, eyes darting around the entire room as if a fatigued predator stalking prey.

Nearly everyone snickered at the odd question, and Umbridge merely sat there, her face growing redder and frown getting deeper by the second. After a moment of no answer, he asked again meekly, "I take that as a…no?"

"You would be correct in that assumption, _Fenton_."

The fact that she left out 'Professor' didn't go unnoticed, much less the scathing tone she took on when uttering his name. It was a blatant show of disrespect, yet Danny seemed to be completely unfazed. Unusually so—considering he was the one who had declared earlier that morning that he didn't tolerate disrespect from others.

Danny did, however, smirk a little. And Harry was starting to realize the pattern between Danny's mysterious smirks and the strange occurrences that happened afterwards.

"Oh. Terribly sorry to bother you then. Cheerio!" he waved, attempting (and failing) a British accent at the end. He closed the door gingerly and his casual, melodic whistling from the other side gradually faded away.

Umbridge 'humph'-ed indignantly, before returning to the previous conversation with Hermione. "That being said, Ms. Granger, I suggest you stop asking pointless questions and return to doing the assignment!"

Harry saw her mouth open as if to continue the argument, and he discreetly kicked her desk to get her attention. Once she glanced back at him, he shook his head forlornly. This wasn't a battle worth fighting, and Danny's appearance had only soured her mood even further. If she kept going at it, she would only enrage Umbridge even further—getting in trouble for no good reason.

Hermione bit her lip but otherwise said nothing, opening her book like an obedient student and reading most likely something she had already read weeks ago when she had purchased the books. It took Harry a moment to realize that, for once in his life, _he _just stopped _Hermione _from doing something incredibly stupid.

_Talk about role reversal, _he thought, slightly proud that he did something right yet slightly disturbed that he was acting like Hermione. Honestly, had he not been preoccupied and absent-minded the entire day, he probably would have ended up fueling the fight and joining in…

For quite a while, the students all sat there, tiredly reading their book in boredom. The only sound made was the _swish_ of the pages as they were turned, along with the drowsy sighing of the students all around. Though dreary, the atmosphere was at least peaceful, and it saved everyone from having to hear Umbridge's aggravating voice.

Basically, the class was uneventful.

Uneventful, that is, until a box began floating above Umbridge's head. And despite Neville's pointing hand and shout of warning, it was too late.

* * *

><p>Danny Fenton sat in the Great Hall with an uncommon amount of enthusiasm that evening, practically glowing as he gobbled down turkey and mashed potatoes. Some of the other professors (Flitwick, McGonagoll, Snape, Grubblyplank, Hooch, and Sprout) at the opposite end of the table had, at first, assumed it to be because of the food. But upon closer inspection, even as he finished his meal, there was a sort of cheekiness to his expression. A cheekiness that the professors were far too used to seeing on Fred and George Weasley.<p>

And it was that resemblance that made them concerned. Because anyone that was comparable to the Weasley twins was someone to be observed _very_ carefully.

Not to mention the fact that Umbridge's late afternoon fifth-year class still hadn't gotten out yet. It should have ended an hour ago, which would've given the students and professor plenty of time to make it to the feast. Yet, neither had showed up; and if there was anything that could be deduced from Umbridge, it was that she was a very punctual woman—one who wouldn't come late to dinner in favor of holding back a class.

Whether Danny's jolly mood and Umbridge's tardiness were a coincidence or not, no one knew. So, after a couple of group whisperings on the opposite end of the table, Professor Flitwick was chosen to bravely walk over towards where Danny was sitting, and get to the bottom of the mystery.

"Hello, m'boy!" he greeted cheerfully, albeit nervously. "I see you're in a very good mood at the moment."

Danny responded with a bright grin. "Yep! Sure am!"

Professor Flitwick coughed a little awkwardly, before inquiring, "Any particular reason for the sudden burst of joy?"

Danny shrugged, reclining back in his seat, "No, not really." Though, as he said it, there was the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the ends of his lips.

"Just a good day?" Professor Flitwick questioned curiously.

"You could say that."

They stood there in silence, Danny leaning lazily back with an easy grin and Professor Flitwick standing uncomfortably with an anxious grimace. The goblin-human hybrid waited for some sort of explanation but—as he and the rest of Hogwarts would come to find out—Danny rather enjoyed being mysterious and fooling around with the wizards. So instead of an explanation, Danny simply stood up from the table, gave a friendly wave to the Charms professor, and casually strolled towards the exit of the Hall.

"Oh, and before I go," he paused in favor of looking over his shoulder at Professor Flitwick. "If she doesn't show up in ten minutes, I'd send some help. If you need me, I'll be in the Astronomy tower."

Without any sort of explanation, Danny left Professor Flitwick standing there, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

When he sat back down on his side of the table, with the professors asking about his encounter and Snape glaring him down for an answer, he shrugged he shoulders and said, "I have no idea."


	5. Gleam

**Quick note: So far, this has been my favorite chapter to write.**

**Have fun!**

***A special thanks to Laura (Lectori Salutem) for beta-ing, as always. You da bestest :). ***

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 5: Gleam<strong>_

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><p>At this point in his life, Harry was fairly certain the universe was mocking him. There was something ridiculous every day: crazy dark wizards who wanted to kill him, an entire Ministry who thought he lost his sanity, dementors who wanted to suck his soul…in his world, normal days were hard to come by, if they existed at all.<p>

Now he could add a spontaneous tornado of flying boxes to the ever-growing list.

_"I AM THE BOX GHOST! FEAR THE WRATH OF MY BOXES OF TERROR!"_

Oh, _and _a glowing _tangible_ ghost in overalls that wanted to doom his Defense Against the Dark Arts class with said spontaneous tornado of flying boxes. That was definitely going on the list too.

No one was entirely sure how it had happened. One moment they were quietly reading Umbridge's stupid classroom assignment—the next, Neville pointed out a floating box above her head. From there, everything continued spiraling downward…

Contributing to the chaos were Umbridge's pathetic attempts in stopping the so-called "Box Ghost". She had first accused one of the students of causing this whole mess, threatening to snap wands and expel whoever was responsible. For some reason or another, she could not comprehend the fact that the Box Ghost was…well…a ghost.

As far as she was concerned, it was some sort of prank being pulled by the students. Which of course was totally impossible, even for the Weasley twins. Pulling pranks and selling various candies and devices for a joke shop was one thing. Conjuring up a spirit and attacking the students with _boxes_, however, was something of a completely different sort.

But then, by ignoring the Box Ghost and placing all of her attention on the students, she angered the ghost even further. Which, in three seconds flat, led to a giant tornado of spinning boxes and students cowering underneath their desks.

Due to the high velocity of the wind currents blowing in circles throughout the classroom, the doors were tightly closed—not that the students could make their way over there anyway. What Danny had asked for earlier—a "glowing pudgy blue man"—was in the middle of the room floating right near the ceiling.

It was creepy, to say the least. As much as Harry couldn't take it seriously, there was a foreboding feeling in his stomach just looking at its eyes. They were a dark, eerie crimson—glowing like freshly spilt blood. The thing, ghost, _whatever-it-was_, had blue-colored skin fully covered in warts and was dressed in a warehouse worker's outfit. Unlike the ghosts at Hogwarts, who always exhibited courtesy and friendliness, this _thing_ looked maniacal and definitely less than sane.

Harry had found it fascinating at first that a ghost could be tangible and non-translucent. Yet, upon realizing this thing was malicious in nature and wanted to attack them with (he snickered inwardly) boxes, the fascination quickly dwindled away, leaving a large amount of room for fear to settle.

With one large sweep of its hand, the boxes under its control went underneath the desks and slammed into a couple of Slytherins, knocking them unconscious. Screaming in rage, Professor Umbridge bellowed out curse-after-curse, jets of green and red light aimed straight for the ghost.

Her efforts were futile though; each curse was either blocked by a conjured-up green shield or phased through. Apparently, not only could this creature become tangible—it could choose to become _in_tangible as well.

Hiding underneath his desk with Ron and Hermione, Harry's mind raced with options. As nice and safe as it was taking refuge underneath his desk—it was the coward's way out, and nothing would get done. Umbridge obviously had no control over the situation and considering they had been here for a while, no one else would come to help them either.

Then again, taking action was a fruitless effort. He had no experience with these kinds of creatures, and if an enraged Umbridge had no effect whatsoever on the Box Ghost, how much more progress could Harry possibly make?

"Guys," he called out amid the roaring of the wind, "any suggestions?"

"Call Ghostbusters?" Hermione shot back.

"Call the crazy, completely mental American who supposedly deals with this crap?" Ron added.

Ron's idea wasn't so much of a bad one, but they had no way of contacting Danny, nor anyone else. The door was tightly sealed and he was sure that if the ghost saw anyone attempt to escape he would attack them next.

Sure enough, as Malfoy and his two goons bolted from their hiding spot and sprinted desperately to the exit, the Box Ghost noticed immediately. He shouted, _"HOW DARE YOU TRY TO ESCAPE THE WRATH OF THE BOOOOOOOOOX GHOST!"_

Following his shout, he moved a blue-skinned hand glowing with green energy—the movement somehow causing the tornado of boxes to stop and target Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Glowing with green light, the boxes swooped and hit them straight in the chest. Harry could even hear the '_oof__' _sound coming from their mouths when the air got knocked out of them.

A couple more endeavors by the boxes at the trio and they were quickly knocked out, limbs sprawled awkwardly around their bodies.

Admittedly, at the sight of his tormentors getting the bloody pulp beat out of them, Harry chuckled in light of the situation and momentarily enjoyed the box ghost's presence.

Until the Box Ghost started aiming boxes at _his _hiding spot.

"Dammit!" he cursed, having just narrowly avoided an incoming ghostly box. Luckily, Ron and Hermione mimicked his movements, effectively dodging the boxes as well.

He rummaged for something, _anything_, that could possibly help the situation. For crying out loud, he was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived! Hell, he learned how to produce a Patronus in his third-year and warded off a giant army of dementors! By himself!

_Wait._ Harry mentally paused. _That's it_.

He desperately clung to some of his happiest memories, shoving all the unfortunate events he had experienced in the furthest back corner of his mind. Closing his eyes, he thought of the feeling of winning a Quidditch match; the moment he saved Ron from the task at the TriWizard Tournament; the annual Christmas gift from Molly Weasley, his adopted mother, sent with so much motherly love and affection that he almost forgot that he was parentless.

With a happy heart, Harry pointed his wand from behind his desk towards the creature and shouted, "_Expecto Patronum!"_

* * *

><p>"<em>You're trying to tell me that somewhere in that school right now there is a classroom being terrorized by the most annoying and persistent ghost in existence—and while this is occurring you're sitting in your bedroom <em>watching Netflix_?_"

Danny Fenton took a sip of his soda, his cell phone pulled slightly away from his ear.

"Yeah. Something like that."

"_Daniel James Fenton, I swear_—"

He pulled the phone away from his ear completely now, watching _The Avengers_ on his laptop with wide, mesmerized eyes_, _scarcely aware of his wife's garble coming from the device. He really needed to thank Tucker one of these days—infusing ectoplasm into his technology and having it run solely off of ecto-energy was pure genius! Not only did it enhance the Wifi-distance and the speed, but it allowed everything to work _inside _the castle!

Danny smirked, thinking back to one of his and Severus' arguments about bringing technology into Hogwarts. Severus had strongly disapproved, nagging on and on about how "_it can't _possibly _work" _or "_you'd have to be more daft than Potter to think that contraption will operate_".In the end, Dumbledore compromised that if he could get it to function, it was acceptable.

And, well, being best friends with technology-genius Tucker Foley _did _have its advantages.

Glancing at the mini-clock on the corner of his screen, he realized a few minutes had passed since he stopped listening to his wife on the other end of the line. He released a sigh and brought it back up to his ear—knowing if he didn't say something sooner or later she would catch on and start ranting about that too.

"Sam," he stated seriously, cutting her off. "Everything will be _fine_. Relax, it's just the box ghost. How much danger could they actually be in?"

Samantha Manson replied dryly, "_Considering they're used to ghosts that can't even physically touch them, I'd imagine __it's one hell of a culture shock_."

Danny chuckled a little, before growing serious again, "Oh, don't worry. They'll adapt."

"_Of course they will. You won't give them a choice._"

"Hey, it's not my fault," he defended weakly, blushing despite being thousands of miles away, "The ghosts would've shown up here on their own eventually anyways. I'm just giving the wizards a head-start so that they're not thrown off-guard once the _real_ baddies break through the barriers."

"_Yeah, you're right_," Sam sighed. A silent moment passed before she asked, "_Are the barriers really that useless?"_

Danny responded grimly, "It appears that way. Old Dumbles put up a shit-ton of magical defense wards, but the ghosts are just phasing through them like it's nothing. If this keeps up, we're going to have to use my parents' ghost shield."

"_I thought you were taking care of that?"_

"There's only so many I can catch at once," he grudgingly admitted, "I did patrol last night and caught thirty ghosts. _Thirty._ Come this morning, my ghost sense was _still_ going off."

Sam audibly winced. "_Yikes. That's a lot. Where are you putting them?"_

"I have a lot of thermoses on me; the ghosts are in there now, but I made an arrangement with Wulf so that he'll visit once a week and let me empty them into the Ghost Zone."

"_Oh, well that's good_!" she rooted optimistically, causing a bittersweet smile to weave its way onto Danny's face. It had only been one day without her thus far and he already felt distressed. There was a pang in his chest every now and then, reminding him that he had to suffer this insane Wizarding World alone. He was so used to having his two best friends by his side through everything—this would be the first time he'd have to face supernatural entities without them.

Not that he hadn't tried to include them in—oh, he had practically _begged _Dumbledore. But, evidently, they wouldn't be much help. Since they were muggles, there would be too many charms and spells that would prohibit them from physically being in the castle, or anywhere magical, really. Luckily, Danny's half-ghost status made him the exception to all the wards and boundaries. Whereas Sam and Tuck would be affected by all the barriers, Danny would feel only a slight tingle walking through them—nothing more, nothing less.

Ectoplasmic beings and wizarding magic were still an iffy combination. No one was really sure how it worked or which form of energy had the upper hand. For now, the most Danny knew was that ghosts were (up to this point) pretty much immune to magic. It was a side-experiment he would continue to test out while he was here; he might as well, given that he would be spending quite a hefty amount of time at Hogwarts.

He had a mission to complete, after all.

Taking another peek at the clock, he noticed that at least an hour and half had gone by since he had left Um_witch_ and the kids alone. The box ghost must have made an appearance by now, and he knew he'd get a lecture later by a certain greasy-haired professor if he didn't put an end to it sooner.

"I've gotta go," he said, not even bothering to hide the reluctance and despair in his voice. "No one has come up screaming about ghosts and I'm getting a little worried. I better go check on them."

"_Yeah, you better_," Sam agreed, sounding a little upset herself. "_Be careful."_

"Aren't I always?"

Sam scoffed, "_Stop being a smart-ass and go help those poor wizards_."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm on it."

Before he hung up, he said, "I love you."

Sam's voice softened, "_I love you too."_ Then hardened again, "_Hang up before I make this a three-way and put your parents on the phone."_

Danny snapped the phone shut instantly, knowing his wife's threats weren't to be taken lightly. He had been specifically avoiding his parents, unable to reveal to them too much of what was going on, thus feeding their curiosity as to why he had to go on a random "business trip" to England for a couple of months. Ever since he had bid them farewell and departed on the plane, they had already filled up his phone with 57 text messages, 24 missed calls, and 6 voicemails.

He groaned thinking about it. As annoying as they could be, he did love them and would have to contact them sooner or later.

Pushing the thoughts from his mind, he closed his laptop and climbed out of the bed. Taking in his abode admiringly for a moment, he had to admit, Dumbledore _knew _how to decorate.

Unlike the rest of the dormitories in the castle, Dumbles had specifically catered this one to accommodate its guest. Just like at home with his parents, the floor was made of dark brown wood, and a circular blue rug had been added to accent his navy blue bed comforter and set. The walls, too, were a navy blue color, though the headmaster had seen to it that his NASA posters from home would be replicated and hung up throughout the room. The furniture—a desk, wardrobe, and bookshelf—was new and neatly furnished.

It was all nice and sweet—but Danny's favorite part was the ceiling.

Having a lot of chats with Danny, the headmaster was quite aware of his love for space. Danny was a part-time astronaut, after all. Though he wasn't always around to be doing research, he occasionally got called in to carry out missions in space and pilot the shuttles. Normally this wasn't allowed, but considering his "special circumstances" as well as his connections with the mayor (Tucker), NASA let him get away with it.

And, well, what better way to make an astronaut feel at home than a ceiling charmed to look like the Milky Way, with stars glittering all over the black abyss and a cloudy sort of residue misting the sky.

Danny had debated about setting up pictures of his family and friends to add to the homely feel, but decided against it last minute. God forbid someone broke in and tried to dig up information on him; the last thing he wanted was these homicidal wizards to target his loved ones.

"All right, let's see," he murmured to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "We have the number one pain-in-my-ass terrorizing a classroom full of uneducated wizards, as well as the professor I despise the most. I need to remove him without giving too much away, but while still freaking out the wizards and acting like I know everything they don't, which is true to begin with. What do I bring with me?"

Not even two seconds passed by until he smirked, knowing full-well the answer.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm normally not an ALL-CAPS person, but because it's the Box Ghost I find this absolutely necessary. <strong>


	6. Aftermath

**Note: As soon as **_**Lectori Salutem**_** looked it over and pointed out mistakes, I had to edit and crank this chapter out right away. It's been way too long! **

**Thanks to all those who reviewed/faved/alerted, as well the friendly encouragement from my beta Laura! Without you guys, I wouldn't have gotten notifications in my email to remind me to get my butt into gear. I've been moody and life's been hectic, but when is it not? **

**Also, **_**morethanarepairboy**_** pointed out a couple of good questions that I hadn't even considered. Like why is Sam's last name Manson and not Fenton? And why does it sound like Danny's still at home if he's married? I WILL FIX IT TOMORROW! I promise. But first, here's the long-awaited chapter 6. It's one of my least favorite chapters; I neglected it for so long in favor of writing other chapters. At least now the next update shouldn't take too long xD.**

**Oh, and one more thing. **

_**Random Flyer**_**, YOU BROUGHT IN THE 200****TH**** REVIEW OF THIS STORY RIGHT BEFORE I POSTED IT! Kind of cool if you ask me (not to mention extremely coincidental…how freaky!). I don't have much to offer though…take some virtual complementary cheesecake?**

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><p><strong><em>Chapter 6: Aftermath<em>**

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><p>Neville was the first to recover, hesitatingly crawling out from underneath his desk, squinting his eyes to adjust to the dimly-illuminated room. Dean and Seamus, who had been sitting near him and were his hiding buddies when the box ghost came, followed suit, both of them looking extremely disturbed.<p>

The classroom was almost devoid of light, the only remaining source being the afternoon sun's rays filtering through the windows. Whatever that thing was, it had caused all the candles and lanterns to blow out—which was strange considering they were enchanted to be lit. Neville chalked it up to the "Box Ghost" fellow messing with the magic, but he was still confused on what had happened to begin with. He had been the first to notice a floating box, but he couldn't remember what, exactly, had brought the ensuing chaos to an end.

Had his wand been on him, he would have cast a _Lumos _spell. It was currently missing, most likely due to the tornado that had swept through the room. He felt a little stupid for not being more careful and having a more secure grip on it. He would have to go searching for it later.

"D'ya reckon he's gone?" he asked quietly to Dean and Seamus behind him. Seamus still looked too petrified to answer, but Dean at least responded by giving a tiny shrug and shaking his head.

Ron's voice cut in from across them, his silhouetted figure suddenly appearing from behind a desk turned on its side, "He is now, thanks to Harry."

Sure enough, Harry stood from his hiding spot, coughing at the dust floating around the air. "Thank Merlin that worked," he muttered, eyes seeming glazed over as he stared at the spot the ghost had been, "It was a lucky guess."

"What'd you do to it?" Dean questioned.

Looking a little shocked that Dean was speaking to him, Harry stuttered, "I-uh-I just cast a Patronus spell. The thing kind of reminded me of a dementor, so I thought of it at the last second."

Dean nodded, deep in thought, while Neville wondered out loud, "What in the world _was _that?"

Coming out from behind Ron and Harry's desk, Hermione piped in dryly, "Well, considering it was proclaiming its name as the 'Box Ghost', I'd assume it's probably a ghost."

"Some '_ghost_'," Ron scoffed. "'Mione, it was _glowing_. And it could actually _touch _us. That thing _wasn't _a ghost."

To the surprise of everyone around him, Seamus quietly commented, "Fenton talked about these beings. In class."

Silence descended on the group.

"Well, uh…" Neville spoke, in an attempt to change the topic, "Anyone know what happened to our classmates?"

"Oh my—" Hermione's hand covered her mouth, her face distorting into one of horror. "The classroom…it's worse than I thought."

At her gesture of accessing the damage, it suddenly dawned on everyone just how bad the destruction actually was. Desks were upturned, papers scattered in a messy array all throughout the room. All the ink bowls had crashed to the ground, ink spills and broken glass haphazardly strewn everywhere. Candles were knocked over, the chalkboard had scratches all over it—the whole place appeared as if a hurricane had waltzed by.

Amongst the disorder, there were several bodies of their classmates.

Seamus' face paled upon noticing the numerous motionless bodies spread throughout the room. Catching his horrified expression, Hermione immediately comforted, "Oh, don't worry, they're alive. They got knocked out by the ghost while trying to escape."

There was a collective sigh of relief, and for the first time in the past hour or so, the students actually felt a sliver of peace.

The tension dissipating slightly, Dean snickered, "Look at that! All the snakes are knocked out!" As if to test something out, he deliberately walked over to Malfoy's body, adjacent to that of Crabbe and Goyle's, and began nudging Draco's head cautiously with his foot. When nothing happened aside from Draco's head lolling helplessly to the side, a tad of drool hanging out of his mouth, a giant grin exploded on Dean's face.

"Blimey guys, get over here! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

While the boys all gathered around to poke fun at their mutual enemy, Hermione sighed in exasperation, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head. Of all the things that brought unity in their house, did it _have _to be the blatant disrespect and hatred towards Slytherin?

"Honestly…" she muttered.

"Anyone got a quill? I want to give Malfoy a fancy mustache to go with his cloak."

"That's all you can think of? Oi, c'mon, that's lame."

"Someone should rip his clothes off so that he wakes up naked."

"Gross, mate. No one wants to see that."

"Poke him hard in the arse and see if he wakes up."

"Poke him in the head and see if there's an actual brain in there."

"Is it illegal to hide his body in a closet if it's alive?"

Each comment made Hermione feel more and more tired, and her patience was already wearing dangerously thin. _Our classroom has been jeopardized, everyone is lying unconscious on the floor…and the plan of action they come up with is to prank Malfoy. Geniuses, us Gryffindors are, pure geniuses._

"Guys," she interrupted, annoyance lacing her tone, "Anyone concerned about how to explain this to the headmaster?"

Everyone seemed to deflate at that question, Dean even dropping the quill he was going to use to draw on Malfoy's face. Neville's cheeks blushed in shame, and Harry, Seamus, and Ron appeared extremely disappointed, looking sadly at Malfoy's unconscious body.

Of course, right on time, Danny, McGonagall, and Professor Snape spontaneously burst through the door, the latter two looking appalled at the scene. Danny, unsurprisingly, didn't look too shocked, but took everything in with an impressed raised eyebrow.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape hissed, glancing specifically at his entire house on the floor. He cast a spell that the younger wizards couldn't catch, fixing and igniting the candles and lanterns to add more light to the room.

Hermione immediately defended her and the boys, exclaiming, "It wasn't our fault! We can explain!"

Coolly, Snape stated, "Oh, you'll be explaining all right. Explaining in detention why we shouldn't _expel_ you."

Before anything further could be said, Danny jumped in, looking a little sheepish, "Actually, this is kind of…sort of…my fault."

A couple pairs of curious eyes stared at Danny. He shrugged, elaborating, "I knew there was a ghost in here earlier. Had I tried to stop him, this whole thing could have been prevented."

"Daniel, are you trying to tell us a _ghost_, of all creatures, caused this mess?" McGonagall demanded incredulously.

"It's true!" Neville cried, turning everyone's attention towards him, "It was blue and glowing and had these crazy red eyes—"

"Enough with this foolishness," Snape briskly concluded. Then, pointing at McGonagall, "You, get the headmaster. Daniel, see to it _your _mess is cleaned up. As for the students…"

He sneered at them, "One week's detention for not taking responsibility for alerting any of the faculty of what occurred."

Before any of them could bemoan their punishment, Danny interjected, "No, Severus, really, I'm to blame. Ghosts are pretty creepy. A lot of people go into shock after their first encounter of one; it's no surprise these students did as well."

"Then would anyone care to enlighten me on why _they're the only ones conscious_?" Snape shot back, eyes dark with vehemence.

Danny, somehow calm and collected in spite of the infamous Death Glare being sent his way, answered, "Simple. They probably were the only ones who didn't try to leave the room. Boxy's a little sensitive about that—takes it very personally and thinks people are ignoring him."

"You seem to know a lot about whatever came through here," McGonagall commented, a calculating look in her eye, "Have you encountered this being before?"

Danny's subsequent laughter made the six Gryffindors exchange glances. Waving his hand as if it were nothing, Danny chuckled, "It's just the Box Ghost, no big deal. I see him on a daily basis."

Neville's jaw dropped, and he looked ready to faint. He stumbled, "You…you…it...all the time? And still alive?"

"Oh please, if you think he's bad, you should see some real baddies, like Fright Knight." Danny shivered a bit, reminiscing about darker times. "Now _that's _a ghost you don't want to mess with."

McGonagall sighed before asking, "Can someone _please _explain how a _ghost _could cause this? And furthermore," she added, glaring strictly at the students, "What, specifically, occurred in this room."

"While I can totally explain the ghost aspect," Danny replied, first glancing at McGonagall, then directing a curious gaze to the students, "I'm still a little confused on how you guys got rid of him. _If _he's actually gone, that is."

"Patronus charm," Harry answered simply. "Not really sure where it landed him, but he hasn't been around since."

For an extremely brief moment, Danny shared an (almost) imperceptible meaningful glance with Snape.

"Well," Danny sighed sadly, "I guess that means I won't be using the bazooka."

At the weird looks from the surrounding wizards, with the exception of Snape, Danny admitted, "All right, not gonna lie, I was really looking forward to whooping some ghost butt."

Seeing that Minerva was about to argue, he explained, "This 'ghost' we keep talking about isn't your typical ghost. He's part of a species of ghosts that are not only fully tangible and non-translucent, but also extremely powerful and, well, generally speaking for the majority, _bad_."

"The classification of this creature matters not," Snape cut in suddenly and with authority, "Our first priority is taking these students to the infirmary at once."

"What about our wands?" Neville asked.

Snape's face started turning a light shade of red and Danny, to the benefit of the students, intervened.

"How about you guys stick around and look for your wands while I clean up? Minerva, you're okay with helping Severus bring the students to Madam Pomfrey right?"

Casting one last suspicious look at the room and trembling students, she uttered, "I suppose so…"

She and Snape thoroughly examined the room, levitating any bodies they came across. Once they deemed it clear, they walked briskly past Danny and the Gryffindors, a line of unconscious students floating horizontally behind them. Umbridge's body was the last to appear, and a certain American snorted at her appearance when she passed by.

Danny waited until they were out of earshot to say, "Damn. That was close."

Everyone turned to look at him, suddenly aware that he was still there. There was an easy-going, lazy smile on his face, and his eyes seemed to glint humorously at the room. After staring for a few moments, he locked gazes with the rest of them, something akin to regret in his expression.

"Sorry for almost getting you guys in trouble. I swear I didn't mean for anything to happen to you. Umbridge was just being so…ugh. Anyway, go look for your wands. I'll take the rest from here."

They all moved mechanically, sharing weird looks with one another before hesitantly breaking off in singles to look for their own wands. Neville found his wand first, though he felt extremely self-conscious. He couldn't tell if it was because of Danny's presence, or the fact that a _professor _just apologized to _the students_.

Regardless, he found his wand quickly and hasted out of the room, not even bothering to wait up for the others. For some reason, despite Danny's good intentions and relaxed nature, there was just something _off _about the professor, and it unsettled Neville to no end. Though he wouldn't say Danny felt _evil_, there was still something _different_. Something unique. Neville had never met a professor like him before, and couldn't tell what it was that made his stomach feel nauseous with unease.

_Or,_ he reflected_, maybe I'm just over-thinking things again, as usual_. Towards the end of the thought he huffed in agitation, and his pace to the Gryffindor dorms increased. The guy was American and Americans were known for being crazy. Yeah, that was it. Culture shock. He came from a completely different country, evidently from a town where ghost appearances were normal. Danny was just eccentric, that's all.

And yet even with these rationalizations, Neville still felt troubled as he entered his room, put on his pajamas, and retired to bed.

* * *

><p>"…<em>could have killed the entire class all because of your <em>insolence _and _stupidity. What in the world possessed you to leave those children alone and defenseless is beyond me. To think you consider yourself a hero—how _absurd_, you are the most _unreliable, foolish_—"

Later on, that evening had found Danny Fenton in the Potions classroom located in the dungeons, on the receiving end of one of Snape's reprimanding rants. He knew it was coming—most likely he deserved it—but it took all of his self-control not to sigh and huff in irritation.

He found it ironic how most people considered Snape quiet and reserved. Quite frankly, he thought it to be the exact opposite. Irritate the professor enough and he would blather on for hours. It reminded him so much of Lancer he wondered if they were, perhaps, related in another time line.

"Are you even _listening _to me?" Snape seethed, eyes glaring furiously at the American.

Blushing slightly, Danny mumbled in grudging respect, "Yes."

Silence reigned between the two of them for a few minutes, Snape continuously staring at Danny and Danny continuously staring at the ground. The halfa felt as if he were being childish, and a small part of him was ashamed at his behavior. He was a full-grown adult now, fresh out of college; he shouldn't have acted like that. He had made a promise to fulfill his mission and part of that mission included keeping the students safe and unharmed.

Yet he had left his charges defenseless against a creature they had no experience against—a creature that, for all anyone knew, was completely impenetrable to magic.

Eventually, Danny said with utmost sincerity, "I'm sorry, Severus. I took it too far."

Since his gaze rested on the floor, he didn't notice the odd expression that briefly crossed Snape's face.

"Right," the Potions master sighed, causing Danny to chance glancing at him.

It was a weird relationship between the two: despite all the misgivings most people in the castle had against Snape, Danny couldn't find it in himself to dislike him. Granted Snape's hair looked like a soggy mop and he had a glare that could probably unnerve even Pariah Dark, but he didn't actually _do _anything. Danny empathized with the man. He, too, knew the feeling of having everyone hate and judge you simply because you weren't the most popular or most sociable. He had been bullied all his life, and even today when he chanced upon seeing Dash, the prior-jock _still _gave him condescending looks.

And it was for that reason that Danny just had to treat Snape with respect and openness. Plus, Snape was his comrade. Aside from Dumbledore, Snape was the only one aware of the true reason for Danny being there, and they had already met multiple times before Danny had even come to the school. Snape was his partner, his confidante, and if they were to cooperate on the given assignment, then that would require them getting along without any grudges or problems.

Breaking the awkward silence that fell upon them, Danny asked, "Did you pick up what the scar kid mentioned about the spell thingy?"

Raising a sardonic eyebrow, Snape repeated slowly, "Scar…kid? Spell…thingy?"

Danny scowled. "You know what I mean."

"If you're referring to Potter's claim of ridding the ghost by using a Patronus charm, then yes, I heard."

"It's insane!" the American exclaimed, excitement evident in his tone. "I mean, to think, all this time we've been trying to figure out what kind of magic has an effect against ghosts. We need to tell Dumbles like ASAP!"

Snape stared at Danny.

It took Danny a second to realize that a proper British person like Snape didn't respond to such unrefined dialect. Danny mended, "Erm…That is…It is imperative that we alert the headmaster of this at once."

Pleased at the improved response, Snape nodded his head. "Out of curiosity, do you really believe Potter's story to be true?" he asked, staring inquisitively at Danny.

Danny pondered that for a moment, glancing curiously off into the distance. Truthfully, he wasn't very knowledgeable about magic. Given the nature of his class, Dumbledore didn't deem it necessary for him to know. Besides, Danny had _ghost powers_, which was plenty enough to protect himself and others.

"Um," he responded unintelligibly, "I think so. He seemed pretty honest to me, at any rate."

"It is not honesty I am referring to," Snape stated.

Thinking that statement over a couple of times, Danny finally interpreted the hidden meaning. Looking peculiarly at Snape, he declared, "You think that the ghost isn't gone."

"I think, seeing as ghosts can apparently block nearly every other sort of spell and attack, that it would take more than an amateur Patronus of a student to rid of one."

Danny countered, "Well in retrospect, ghosts _are _dark creatures, regardless of how 'good' they are. They may not be the same as those ghetto freaky spirits—"

"_Dementors_."

"Right—they may not be at a dementor's level, but they're similar. I mean, the killing curse doesn't have an effect on ghosts. They're already dead. So…something's gotta work on them...right?"

"I believe we agreed ghosts were impervious to magic."

"We _speculated _that ghosts _might _be impervious to magic," Danny corrected, "but obviously that's not the case."

Snape, again, stared at Danny, a kind of pensiveness in his eyes. A couple beads of sweat formed at the back of Danny's neck. He _knew _that look. That was the look right before his mom had another idea for a ghost invention; it was the look Sam had right before she suggested he go into the ghost portal all those years ago; this _look _was the same look when someone had an idea. A completely out-of-this-world, someone's-going-to-get-hurt, kind of idea. And Danny was _always _the someone-who-got-hurt.

He loathed witnessing those looks.

In the usual drawl that he had, Snape wondered out loud, "I wonder…if…_your_ ghost form might be a testable subject."

* * *

><p><strong>At the conclusion of this chapter, I have good news and bad news. <strong>

**Good news is that, while sitting bored at work with nothing to do and no available service (aka I used up all my data watching netflix), I typed up probably about 20 pages worth of this story on my iPhone, and also started planning how I want it to end and where I want to take the plot. In addition to this, because I literally spent every hour of every work day typing this up, a million plot bunnies hit me and now I have so much in store for this story and future chapters to come.**

**Bad news is made up of two parts. Part one is that summer is nearing its end, meaning that I'm going back to college in two weeks. I really need to focus on my grades this year, and have a lot of stuff on my plate. If I don't keep my grades up, I lose my scholarship and get kicked out of school. Similarly, I have a lot of responsibilities with my sorority and extracurricular activities and my job. It'll be rough, so I'll probably be really busy. **

**Part two of bad news is that my first priority right now (in regards to fanfiction) is to finish editing and publishing a different DP short story that I've been working on for the past few years. It's actually what got me back into writing again, so I'm emotionally attached and want it done. That's not to say I won't be dedicating any time to Unfamiliar Territory, just that updates might not be as quick. Luckily I wrote some of the future chapters out already so I won't be terribly slow :P**

**This will be complete though, one day. I swear it. I enjoy writing for it way too much to give up now. Thanks again for all/any support and hopefully I can post some new chapters soon!**


	7. New Developments

**It's been a while (sheepishly rubs back of head). But, alas, real life does come first. In the daily, hourly schedule that I was forced to make due to the chaos in my life, there were no open slots for "Leisurely Writing Fanfiction". I've discovered that I have absolutely no time to write during the school year.**

**Breaks, however, I have time to write. So, at long last, I present Chapter 7 of Unfamiliar Territory. To the reviewers, especially the ones who make comments on my writing and have something to say other than the typical "update soon", I have read each one, and take everything you say into mind. I just had no time to respond to everything :(. To the followers/fav/alerters, thanks for popping emails in my inbox, otherwise I wouldn't get my butt into writing gear. And, of course, to Laura, thank you for being a great companion. I enjoy our conversations (even if I'm a little delayed in responding) and appreciate your editing.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 7: New Developments<strong>_

* * *

><p><em>It'll be for the better, they said. No harm will come to you, they said. What a bunch of bull—<em>

Danny's mental cursing got interrupted by a branch scratching his cheek, the sharp thorns catching him off guard and leaving a long trail of blood across his face. The stinging pain made him hiss in annoyance, eyes briefly lighting up with a green hue.

His cold core nearly begged to be released, to have him allow the white transformation rings to glide over his body and replace _Fenton _with _Phantom_. Oh, he was _so _tempted—but he knew it wasn't allowed. Dumbledore had specifically warned him against revealing his ghostly persona to anyone or any_thing_, including creatures in the forest. Information flowed around very easily; if anyone connected to Voldemort, regardless if they were human or not, were to spot him…not only would he be a new target, but the upper hand that Dumbledore had over the dark wizard would be lost. It was too much to risk.

Plus, the second he gave in, he'd be stuck dealing with Snape's taunts for days. Taunts of how he was weak without his ghost powers, about how he relied on them since he lacked the physical and mental competence to survive on his own.

Which would be somewhat hypocritical coming from someone who used magic on a daily, if not hourly, basis, but Snape wasn't one to care much about being fair.

He pumped his legs, willing himself to ignore the burn trickling across his body. With the amount of energy he was exerting, he was lucky he was half-ghost. No human would have lasted this long, sprinting around the dark Forbidden Forest away from a bunch of stick-up-their-asses centaurs.

He almost giggled at the thought of a stick actually getting stuck in that particular location, but an arrow landing in a tree trunk mere inches from his head reminded Danny what he was dealing with and motivated him to run faster.

For the love of—it had been an accident! One that could have easily been avoided had Dumbles and Sevy not manipulated him into "getting acquainted with the forest" and "seeing if creatures could sense his otherworldly gifts." Danny was starting to get the vibe that all they really wanted was to see how long he could last without using his powers.

Damn manipulative wizards.

It was all a miscommunication, honestly. Danny had been wandering around the so-called "Forbidden Forest" at midnight (unwillingly), when he came across a bow and arrow lying in an abandoned clearing. Out of curiosity and boredom, he had picked it up and began feeling it out by shooting some arrows into a nearby tree.

It was just a bow and arrow. He had assumed there was no harm done. It wasn't as if anyone had informed him that the Forbidden Forest was full of entities that Danny had only briefly heard about in fantasies or fairy tales. Entities that the bow and arrow might have…belonged to.

So how the hell, as someone who didn't know a single piece of information regarding magical creatures, was he supposed to know that the weapon belonged to the leader of a giant herd of human-prejudiced, territorial centaurs that would perceive his curiosity as intentional theft, thereafter gathering together to kill/stampede him to death?

Hm. He needed to sit down with Dumbledore one of these days. Really, would it _kill _the old man to have a list of safety precautions and/or warnings? Did _everything_ in the wizarding world have to be completely unpredictable?

"You cannot outrun us, human!" a centaur bellowed. "You have trespassed on our turf and you shall _pay_!"

Knowing it would do no good, but doing it anyway, Danny screamed back, "It was an accident!"

But of course that did nothing to lessen the pace of the heavy hooves against the terrain. Danny was lucky for his small size; compared to the large, hulking forms of the centaurs, Danny was able to maneuver through thick vines and trees without much trouble. Without this advantage, he was sure they would have caught up ages ago.

_Okay, think Fenton_, he focused, ducking under a low-hanging branch. _Heavy, bulky centaurs. Tiny, flexible you. There has to be somewhere in this forest where they can't follow me_.

It took him a few minutes of running through bushes and sidestepping thick tree roots on the floor to finally realize.

_Oh. Duh._

While still sprinting away from the herd, his eyes scanned around for a moderately-thick, tall tree. For his purposes, he'd need one that towered above the forest, but was thick enough to endure some weight on it.

_There. _

Finding one, he frantically threw himself halfway up a moss-covered dense oak tree, climbing quickly up it and onto its high branches. Once settled comfortable on a branch, he risked a nervous glance downwards, smiling slightly when he saw the herd's angry gazes towards him.

"What, got something against trees?"

He knew they couldn't climb. They had arms and hands, sure, but their equestrian bodies were far too heavy and ill-proportioned to be lifted up. And as far as he could tell, there were no wings either.

A smirk threatened to form on his face until the leader (or who he assumed to be the leader anyway) called out, "We could break down the tree and force you here."

Danny gulped. He hadn't thought of that.

There was a momentary pause. The leader continued, "However, we do not believe in destroying the earth for our selfish reasons." The centaur stepped back, his dark eyes glaring straight at Danny.

"You are not worth our time to wait until you eventually pass out from starvation or dehydration. However, be warned: if you ever trespass again, we _will _kill you."

And with that threatening promise slightly echoing in the air, the herd left him. A few briefly stayed behind to grunt threateningly at him, but they followed their leader nonetheless.

It took about a half hour until Danny felt comfortable enough to climb down. His advanced hearing didn't detect any noises (well, centaur-related noises anyway, any other creature was fair game) and he didn't have a nervous pit in his stomach warning him something was amiss.

Upon reaching the ground he immediately headed back the way he came, using a compass his father had given to him a few years back to track his way. Running from the centaurs hadn't allowed for him to remember his path, but the knowledge that the castle was west-bound was enough to get by.

It didn't take long to exit the forest. Years of playing cat and mouse with Skulker had prepared him for a situation like this. He had been more cautious this time around, making sure to watch where he was going and avoid any creatures he spotted.

Danny spotted the Potions master right away. Part of him wondered how the heck Snape knew where he would end up, and the other part of him that was exhausted and tired couldn't give a damn. He trekked over to Snape, afterwards collapsing onto the ground. He huffed and puffed in exertion at Snape's feet, while the gaunt man merely sneered at Danny's humility.

"How was your…gallivanting in the forest?"

The question earned a glare from Danny.

"Well, you certainly surpassed our expectations."

"And…the reason…for all that was…?" the halfa panted.

Snape explained, "Before moving onto magical combat, Albus wanted to ensure that your natural abilities were up to par.

"Also," he added, "We wanted to see how well you could adapt to random, adverse incidents. This is the wizarding world. As you become more integrated, you will be constantly bombarded with new creatures, events, and pieces of information. Due to this, we must have you thoroughly prepared for any scenario should it arise."

Blue eyes blinked, a small realization dawning in them. "You set…that…whole thing…up."

Snape didn't answer, but the coy smile at the edge of his lips was answer enough. Danny was somewhat troubled by the fact that these wizards could so easily steal a bow and arrow from an unsuspecting centaur and set a trap like that. If they could manipulate a terrifying, powerful herd of centaurs into unknowingly "testing" his "natural abilities"…who's to say they weren't using Danny as a pawn?

"Are…we…" Danny managed between strangled breaths, "done…now?"

"Not quite yet," Snape responded. "Albus has another…_experiment_…he would like to try with you."

And judging by the maniacal gleam in Snape's eyes, Danny wasn't going to like it one bit.

* * *

><p>Sure enough, Danny was not quite appreciative of what the headmaster had in mind.<p>

As he dodged a rapid jet of red light by practically ramming his body into the tiled floor, Danny Fenton reconsidered his judgment of Dumbledore's sanity. Or any of the wizards' sanity, really. Was what they were doing even legal?

"Would—you—hold—still?" Snape seethed, grunting while he directed a nonverbal stunning spell at his charge.

Then again, legality didn't mean much when it came to human-ghost hybrids, unfortunately. Particularly ones who had a secret identity and whose existence had not yet been noticed in the wizarding world.

"Would—you—stop—assaulting me?" Danny panted back, voice dry with scorn.

Before, Snape had led him to a mostly-empty dungeon at approximately two in the morning, the only items in the room being empty suits of armor that outlined the walls. Though Danny wasn't _completely_ familiar with the castle's layout, he knew wherever Snape brought him was private and far enough away from sleeping students.

Danny had been wary enough when he agreed to "test out" magic on an ectoplasmic creature, i.e. himself. Being half ghost, thus also being constantly on the run from ghost hunters and scientists, Danny was thoroughly frightened by the concept of experimentation. He had seen enough of his parents' basement to have nightmares about being captured for the rest of his life.

His expectations had been to take it slow; to start out with simple, harmless spells and gradually move on to the bad boys. Yet, the second the door closed behind them, Snape wasted no time in raising his wand and screaming "_Stupefy_!"

Luckily, years of fighting ghosts had allowed him to transform quickly enough to hover towards the ceiling, out of the spell's path.

And then Snape had flung spell after spell at him, none of which were absorbed or blocked by his ghost shield. Danny had assumed that, similar to how the box ghost was unaffected by Umbridge, all it took was simple intangibility to phase through the spells.

His theory had been proven wrong immediately when Snape aimed "_Descendo_" at him and, in spite of his current intangible state, Danny was pulled by an unknown force that made him collide into the ground.

By that point, Danny was becoming very, exceedingly aware that magic held more of an effect on him than he previously assumed.

He flew all over the room, avoiding the endless amount of spells shot his way. A corkscrew here, a roundabout there—it was like dancing a ballet, but much more dangerous and probably much less graceful on his part. He had to admit: despite Snape's sleezy appearance and sluggish pace, the man knew how to fight with magic. Danny couldn't really decipher the intention of each spell or what they were designed to do, but the aura of power from them was unmistakable.

"_Bombarda Maxima_!" the Potions master shouted out, this spell seeming more intense than some of the others. Right as it was about to hit Danny head-on, he split his extendable body in half, reforming only after the spell created a giant explosion behind him.

He really needed to start learning this magic crap.

"_Piertotum Locomotor_!"

Danny reflexively dodged the attack, the beam of light hitting a suit of armor behind him. The half ghost turned to the spot where the spell had disappeared, a smug grin on his face.

"You know Sevy, I think someone's aim is a little off."

The sneer that came across Snape's face turned Danny's grin into a deep frown.

"On the contrary, ghost child."

The halfa opened his mouth to complain about the all-too-familiar nickname, but froze upon hearing a strange, metal-screeching noise behind him.

"What did you—"

Too quickly for him to turn around, something heavy tackled Danny to the ground. The wind got knocked out of him, and it took a few moments of waiting for air to fill his lungs to recuperate.

He blinked in confusion, dazedly realizing his attacker was one of the suits of armor surrounding the perimeter of the room. There were dull aches up and down his body from hitting the ground so hard. As his mind recovered, he phased through the armor, groaning at the pain this action caused.

"You see, Mr. Phantom," Snape spoke as he neared Danny, not even hiding his leering smirk, "Were you knowledgeable on the subject of magic, you would know that the spell I just cast is not a spell meant to harm an offender. Directly, at least."

Danny grunted, then decided to momentarily sit on the ground and rest for a minute. He sat himself a couple of feet from where the armor was still positioned, wary of it coming alive again. Snape watched his heavy pants, the expression on his face a cross between amusement and condescension.

Danny regarded his onlooker with a smoldering glare, before asking stiffly, "Was that _really _necessary?"

Rather than directly answer, Snape countered, "We now know that ghosts are more susceptible to magic than we presumed, do we not?"

Rolling his green eyes, Danny grumbled an incoherent response and looked away.

Snape stared at him, stoic now, and monotonously stated, "Our testing is not done here."

"Oh to hell it isn't!" Danny screamed, standing up, "In just one night I've ran a track marathon in some creepy forest, earned my name on the hit list of a bunch of crazy centaurs, and then forced into _combat_. No way. I'm so done right now."

Ignoring Danny's tirade, Snape said, "You seek answers. And in order to discover these answers, you must make sacrifices. Even if it involves physical or emotional pain."

The ghost hybrid stared at Snape oddly, somehow feeling that that piece of advice wasn't referring to the current matter at hand. Not sure how to respond, he muttered awkwardly, "Uh...sure...right..."

Snape then swiveled around, his cloak swishing dramatically due to the momentum. Immediately, Danny's stomach felt heavy with guilt. Grease head may have been annoying at times but...he was wise, of that Danny was positive. And he had a sinking feeling his wisdom stemmed from some misfortune in the past, something of the emotional nature.

Trauma had that effect on people. He would know.

As he stood there pensively, watching Snape make his exit, Danny belatedly realized that the potions master had just effectively avoided Danny's wrath by evoking his sympathy. Again.

_Dammit, why does Snape always make me feel so freaking _**guilty**_? _

"Shall we retreat to our quarters or would you prefer to stand there idiotically all night?" The jab halted Danny's thoughts, and suddenly that sympathy converted to annoyance once again.

"If it means not having to walk next to your clearly unhygienic hair, then maybe I will."

"As tempting as that option is, I unfortunately would rather avoid being charged with kidnapping a co-worker."

"Aw, Sevy, you upgraded from calling me a nuisance to calling me a co-worker. I'm touched!"

"You have five seconds before I close this door and lock you in there."

Danny sighed wistfully, "Damn, and risk missing out on breakfast? Fine, I'm goin', I'm goin'..."

They bantered like that back and forth until they reached their parting point in the hallways, one corridor going further down into the dungeons and the other which would eventually lead to the astronomy tower.

"You know, Severus, sometimes I think we'd be a pretty awesome married couple. If I wasn't already married, that is. And wasn't straight. Has England legalized gay marriage yet?"

Snape didn't even dignify his remark with an answer, instead speed walking down the hallway and muttering obscenities under his breath. Danny observed his departure with a grin deciding that, whether Snape agreed with it or not, they _would_ be friends by the end of this year.

Perhaps not the kind of friends that had touchy-feely heart-to-hearts together and gave each other hugs all the time, but friends nonetheless. Without Mister "T.F.—as in, 'Too fine!'", Danny needed someone to nag at, particularly someone he could exchange witty banter with.

And considering the rest of the school were either petrified of him or convinced he should be locked in a mental asylum, Snape would have to do.

Besides, the man clearly had no companions here, aside from his confidante/boss Dumbledore. If there was one thing Danny hated, it was seeing someone lonely.

_Just you wait_, he thought, casually strolling in the hallway. _You'll open up. One day. And maybe then I can invest in some shampoo for you._

* * *

><p>The next day came much too quickly to Harry's liking, and he could tell his fellow suitemates felt the same way. Everyone groaned at the harsh beams of the sun trickling into the room. While stretching his arms over his head, Dean said, for the first time since Harry arrived at Hogwarts, "Mornin' mates."<p>

Each in turn mumbled some sort of greeting, aside from Ron who rolled back over and buried his head beneath the pillow. "We're going to have to deal with everyone's gossiping crap today aren't we?" he whined, voice slightly muffled.

It took a minute for Harry to recall the events of the prior evening: the Box Ghost, hitting it with a Patronus charm, Danny Fenton, the unconscious students…

With a grimace, Harry responded, "Like we haven't been doing that already." He twisted his legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood up, working out the kinks in his joints. Across from him Neville was already out of bed, yawning while picking his uniform out for the day.

"Well who's to say anyone even knows about it?" Neville asked. He promptly received a few disbelieving looks.

Harry responded, "Not to be pessimistic, but nothing in Hogwarts is ever a secret."

_Well_, _almost nothing anyway,_ Harry mused to himself, thinking of the Order.

Seamus, who like Ron was still buried beneath his pillow, wondered out loud, "So what do we do?"

Those whose heads weren't stuffed under pillows shared unsure glances. Eventually, when it was obvious no one had an answer, Neville offered, "Uh, try to ignore it and make the best of the day?"

Finally throwing aside his pillow, Ron remarked, "Neville, have you ever considered _not _being annoyingly optimistic?"

"Well, someone has to be!" he defended weakly, cheeks tinged a light pink color.

Off-handedly, Harry said, "Hey, Ron." When the redhead turned his head to face him, he pointed out, "Hasn't breakfast just started?"

As expected, the words suddenly motivated Ron to jump off the mattress and scuttle around, earning some sniggers from the rest of them. Personally, Harry was just as reluctant as Ron was to dealing with the gossip they were sure to come across, but he'd rather not bring tension among the five of them. Especially since, as it currently stood, they were the only students (along with Hermione) from the class that weren't currently knocked out in the infirmary. If they wanted to survive the thousands of questions and pestering thrown their way, they'd have to stick together and deflect everyone as best as they could.

While everyone else went about getting ready and finishing up, Seamus approached Harry quietly and, when it appeared no one was paying any bit of attention, muttered, "I'm sorry."

Harry blinked at the apology, eyes regarding Seamus blankly. From behind him, Dean approached the two of them and added, "Me too."

He looked between the two of them, eyes scrunched up.

"I guess we realized yesterday that in times like these we can't bail on our friends. Sorry mate. Had no reason to get riled up."

As if to include him in the explanation, Seamus nodded his head to Dean, who had gone back to quietly making the bed.

Harry stood in silence before nodding, a tiny smile gracing his features. "Okay."

"So we're good?"

"...Yeah. We're good."

Afterwards they acted as if nothing happened, though some of the bitterness that had been plaguing Harry for the past few days suddenly lifted. Seamus and Dean appeared visibly less tense, and if Ron or Neville noticed anything different they didn't voice it.

Once the five suitemates were all prepared, they put on their most neutral expressions and took off, ready for the battle ahead. By a stroke of luck no one was occupying the Gryffindor common room, saving them from having to face their fellow housemates. Harry knew it wouldn't be that pleasant all day, but felt a rush of relief flood through him regardless.

The corridors were the real problem. Right as they turned a couple corners and descended down a few stairs, occupants of the main hallway turned their heads and gaped, turning to their friends to whisper secretly.

"I don't like this," Ron mumbled nervously, "I really, really, _really_ do not like this."

"Oh for the love of—"

But before he could finish his complaint, Harry suddenly knocked into someone and promptly fell on his arse from the collision. Eyes closed in a wince, he didn't get a chance to peek at the other person, but he heard them scramble up from the floor.

_Great. I As if I'm not already on the hit list of nearly all of Hogwarts…_

He stood up, avoiding eye contact by staring at the ground. Sighing, he finally faced the person he ran into, ready for an angry outburst or glare—

Only to freeze at the sight of Cho Chang's innocent eyes.

_Bloody damn it_, Harry inwardly cursed. Of all the times to bump (literally) into Cho, did it have to be _now_? He looked desperately to his comrades, but they had already detached from his side, walking briskly away from him. Harry swore to get revenge later before putting his attention on Cho and forcing a smile on his face. "Cho! Ah...Sorry about that…how are you?"

His crush-since-last-year smiled sweetly, albeit nervously, sending a burst of butterflies in his stomach. Half of him was overjoyed that, in spite of all the nasty rumors floating around about him, Cho hadn't immediately shown any signs of hatred towards him. Even despite the fact that he was kind-of-sort-of involved in her boyfriend's death (Or, uh, _ex_-boyfriend now, he supposed).

The other half of him wished that she _had _despised him. She certainly had the right too. He would rather endure her blaming him for Cedric's death and loathing him than being shown kindness. Kindness just made him feel guiltier than he already felt about the whole ordeal.

He ignored that train of thought to better look at Cho, take in her features. She was still Cho Chang, beautiful and pristine and doe-eyed, as always. Her hair was still a silky black and her bangs were elegantly cut, giving her a more mature look. Yet, Harry noted the smaller details that were...different. Like the bags under her eyes. The paleness to her skin. An extremely petite figure that signaled a lot of weight loss.

It was safe to say Cedric's death had hit her. Hard.

Her brown eyes searched his, while her lips pursed uncertainly and her lips drooped into a frown.

"I've been better," she answered. Her voice was subdued, much more than usual. Yet, there were no signs of anger or disdain.

Harry rubbed the back of his head, unsure where to go from there. He felt like he owed her something, but what could he possibly say to compensate for Cedric's death? _'Oh, sorry about your boyfriend. I didn't mean to drag him into my crazy life where everyone around me gets killed.'_

Fortunately for him, she didn't bring up Cedric.

"How was your summer?"

Not that the topic of his summer was much easier to discuss.

"Er…it was okay. Nothing exciting happened." _Except for being attacked by dementors and almost getting kicked out of Hogwarts. _

"Have you had a good start to the school year yet?"

"Still a little too early to tell, but I hope so."

The tension within Harry's shoulders relaxed somewhat. Though the questions were mundane, she voiced them with actual interest. In fact, he hadn't detected any bitterness in her tone. Harry had imagined this conversation going downhill fast, but Cho treated him with courtesy and steered clear from any topics regarding last year.

_Thank God._

"I heard that your class got caught up in something...bad. Is everything okay?"

Harry swallowed nervously, unprepared for the conversation to turn in that direction.

_Yep, everything's just jolly! No need to worry, everything will be all right; I'm sure someone will fill you in later—_

He almost blew her off, but one glance at the genuine concern on her face and Harry knew he couldn't lie.

"It was nothing, really. Just some silly old ghost—"

"A _ghost_?"

Had he been in his right state of mind, perhaps Harry would have realized that everyone in the hall had quieted down, all of them hanging carefully onto Harry's next few words, teachers included.

"I'm not sure, actually. It, um, was powerful. And capable of hurting us. Called itself the 'Box ghost'."

It was moments like these that Harry truly resented his lack of social skills. Could he be any more awkward?

Cho's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"That sounds so...weird. Is everything okay? I heard a lot of people were sent to the infirmary."

"Yes, of course. The professors came in and then Danny fixed—"

He halted halfway through the sentence, seeing Cho's eyes widen at the mention of "Danny". He could already see the gears turning in her head, probably making some weird connection between the box ghost and the ghost-hunting professor that even he had yet to discover.

Merlin, why did he just tell her all of that? All he had to do was give a polite apology and walk away. Instead he had stood there, rambling away all this unnecessary information and starting on a topic of conversation that could have easily been avoided.

"Um, well, I should get going. Y'know, breakfast and all. I think my friends are waiting for me," Harry said, trying to excuse himself from her as kindly as possible.

For the first time since Cedric's death, Harry watched Cho smile. It was small, more of a sad smile than a real smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Yeah, me too. Maybe I'll see you around."

Heart practically combusting in his chest, he stuttered, "Y-yeah! See you later." Skipping the goodbyes, he rushed towards the great hall, ignoring those staring at his most likely bright red face. He wondered how it was that he had stood up against Lord Voldemort with no problem, but when faced with Cho, made a blundering fool of himself.

Harry reached the Great Hall quickly, and he smartly dashed straight towards Ron and Hermione, not wanting to acknowledge the hundreds of heads that turned in his direction, eyeing his trek to the Gryffindor table. Even his housemates were watching him carefully, and the clear separation of Ron, Hermione and the Weasley twins from the rest of the house (or, at least, those not unconscious in the Infirmary) was impossible to miss.

"We need to talk," he stated, sitting next to Ron and blatantly ignoring the presence of the twins sitting across the table.

"I'll say," one of them said jovially. "First day of the American bloke being here..."

"...and there's already a ghost attack!" the other exclaimed excitedly.

Ron, while picking at his food, muttered in annoyance, "It wasn't a ghost."

"Oi! Fred, d'ya hear that? Ronnie-kins says it wasn't a ghost!"

"Not a ghost?" Fred banged his hands on the wooden table. "Preposterous!"

"Clearly it must have been Santa Claus," George said in a matter-of-fact tone, earning a snicker from Harry and an angry look from Ron.

Fred suggested, "Or maybe a toilet monster. Ron could've blown up one with that romp he made the other day; thing probably became alive and came back for revenge—"

Momentarily glancing at Ron's ever-reddening ears, Hermione cut in with narrowed eyes, "Don't you two have classes?"

The twins simultaneously scoffed at the question.

"Us?

"On time?"

"For class?"

They burst into hysterical laughter, and even Harry couldn't resist letting loose a chuckle. Hermione however was less amused, and stood from her spot haughtily.

Head raised slightly, she said in an even voice, "While you two attempt getting yourselves kicked out of school, _I'll_ be in class." And with that she walked away, leaving Harry to wonder what class, exactly, she was going to.

He leaned over to Ron's ear, murmuring, "Isn't our first class in an hour?"

His best friend shrugged, pulling out his time table and reading down the list. "Yep. Charms with Ravenclaw, starting at 10."

"So where's she going?"

"Harry, you ought to know by now that no one _ever_ knows what Hermione's doing."

Harry mulled over that curiously while the twins looked extremely mischievous from the other side of the table.

"George, do you reckon she was challenging us—"

"To get kicked out? Why, Fred, I do believe she was."

Without so much as a farewell, the redheads bounded out of their seats, cackling evilly down the hall. Ron grumbled curses under his breath, waiting till they exited the room to inform, "They've been asking about the _Incident_ all morning."

He then turned to stare at Harry and asked curiously, "So what happened between you and Cho?"

Blushing in embarrassment, Harry redirected the topic. "Where did the others go?"

"Got scared off by my two wonky brothers before you came in. You didn't answer my question—"

"Has anyone heard anything about the students in the Infirmary yet?"

That topic of conversation seemed to hold Ron's attention, seeing as the redhead paused in his complaining and adopted a curious look on his face. Slowly, he responded, "No...not yet. I haven't heard from or seen anyone."

They sat in silence for a moment before Ron mused, "I wonder how they're going to play Quidditch..."

Harry sighed. He hadn't even thought about Quidditch—and he was one of the key players. Maybe the fact that he wasn't preparing for the games and feeling excited was a sign that he _needed _a distraction. Badly.

Later, he decided, he would pick up his Firebolt and go flying. For now, Harry finished his breakfast with Ron in comfortable silence.

When people started filing out of the Great Hall some time later, Ron asked, "Ready to go?"

Harry nodded, setting down his utensils and gathering his books. With his mental and physical exhaustion clouding his attention, he didn't notice Danny Fenton at the staff table, who had been watching his every move with curious eyes.

* * *

><p>Harry knew his bushy-haired friend was up to something when Hermione came to Charms class <em>after <em> him and Ron. She had nearly missed the curfew, and Harry knew her too well to let it go as merely "running late". Because for Hermione Granger, "late" did not exist in her vocabulary.

It didn't help her case when she sat towards the _back_ of the room with a _smirk_ on her face.

Hermione never sat in the back. And she most definitely never smirked so mischievously.

Unfortunately, the start of the lesson ruined any chance of speaking with her; so Harry just faced forward and took down notes, figuring she'd fill them in later.

The lesson passed by quickly for once (perhaps due to the majority of the Gryffindor students missing), and Harry started when Flitwick clapped his hands and informed them that class was over. He scrambled hurriedly, hoping to catch Hermione, but a swift turnaround left him disappointed.

Now, in addition to arriving late, sitting in the back, and smirking evilly, she was intentionally ignoring him and Ron.

He contemplated discussing her weird behavior with Ron, but decided against it last minute. Ron was right. Hermione was on a mission; and Hermione on a mission was no one to be messed with. She'd tell them sooner or later what was going on.

At least, so he hoped.

* * *

><p><strong>This was my longest chapter to date. *claps excitedly*<strong>

**It was especially difficult for me to write the second half of this. I never really liked Cho, and had to rewrite that whole section multiple times before I finally felt moderately content. If anyone has any criticism, please let me know.**

**While I can't promise that the next update will be relatively soon, I can say that I'm planning on editing the first few chapters and deleting/fixing things so that they make sense. That being said, those caught up won't have to reread anything to understand what's going on. However, if you do go back, there might be some new material added/possible scenes deleted. Not sure when this will get done…but we'll see.**

**IMPORTANT NOTE (sort of): If you're ever curious about the status of this story…I will have a story report at the top of my profile you can check. I don't plan on abandoning this, but updates will most likely be extremely slow in the future. **

**Until next time-**

**-Amanda**


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